pHN  SHERWOOD^ 
IRONMASTERS! 


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3rd  Recruit    Company 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 


JFiction. 

HUGH  WYNNE. 

CONSTANCE  TRESCOT. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  WASHINGTON. 

CIRCUMSTANCE. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FRANCOIS. 

THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK. 

DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

IN  WAR  TIME. 

ROLAND  BLAKE. 

FAR  IN  THE  FOREST. 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

WHEN  ALL  THE  WOODS  ARE  GREEN. 

A  MADEIRA  PARTY. 

THE  RED  CITY. 

HEPHZIBAH  GUINNESS. 

A  COMEDY  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

A  DIPLOMATIC  ADVENTURE. 

THE  GUILLOTINE  CLUB. 

JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER. 


DOCTOR  AND  PATIENT. 
WEAR  AND  TEAR—  HINTS  FOR  THE 
OVERWORKED. 


COLLECTED  POEMS. 

THE  WAGER,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

THE  COMFORT  OF  THE  HILLS. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD, 
IRONMASTER 


BY 

S.  WEIR  MITCHELL,  M.D.,  LL.D. 

Author  of  "  Hugh  Wynne,"  "  The  Adventures   of  Francois," 
and  "  Constance  Trescot,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1911 


Copyright  1911,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Published,  May,  1911 


IN    MEMORIAM 

RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER 


Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither; 

Ripeness  is  all. 

—Lear. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 


A  STUDY  of  the  mental  and  moral  character 
istics  of  children  as  altered,  lost  or  valuably 
developed  later  in  life  would,  I  think,  be  interesting. 
Especially  would  this  apply  to  the  receptive  and  in 
ventive  imagination  so  often  found  in  children  and 
so  often  to  all  appearance  lost  as  time  affords  ma 
terial  contradictions  to  the  day  dreams  of  the  years 
of  awakening  intelligence. 

This  quality  which  makes  children  wordless  poets 
and  is  of  the  heaven  which  lies  about  us  in  our 
infancy  may  usefully  reappear  in  manhood  as  an 
essential,  not  only  of  the  poet  but  of  the  man  of 
science  and  the  inventor.  In  midlife  it  may  ripen 
anew  into  forms  of  product  which  have  something 
of  the  joyous  freedom,  the  self -born  beliefs,  which  are 
the  prerogatives  of  that  king  of  faeryland,  the  child. 


JOHN   SHERWOOD, 
IRONMASTER 


MY  father  was  killed  in  battle  with  the  Sioux  and 
three  months  later  my  birth  cost  my  mother  an 
illness  which,  during  my  third  year,  ended  her  life. 
There  was  very  little  available  property.  Certain 
wild  lands  in  Maine  only  productive  of  taxes  were 
my  sole  inheritance.  My  two  uncles,  elder  brothers 
of  my  mother,  found  their  bachelor  lives  charged 
with  the  embarrassment  of  an  infant.  Even  my  birth 
must  have  been  an  unusual  event  in  the  family,  for  it 
was  long  since  such  an  occurrence — and  now  the 
baby  no  one  wanted  was  an  orphan  and  to  be  con 
sidered.  The  two  men  who  decided  my  early  fate 
were  long  afterwards  described  by  my  cousin,  Dr. 
Harry  Heath,  as  born  aged  and  as  having  from  child 
hood  some  of  the  mental  and  moral  peculiarities  of 
advanced  life.  I  have  never  seen  children  like  those 
relatives  of  mine  and  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  un 
derstood  what  he  meant,  but  certainly  from  my  first 
remembrance  of  my  uncles,  they  changed  very  lit 
tle  in  body  or  mind  and  were  generally  regarded 
as  somewhat  eccentric  persons.  Although  Richard 


4  ...    .JOHN  SHERW.OQD,  IRONMASTER 

and  Robert  were  twins,  they  were  singularly  unlike 
in  jc>iztw£i*d-  iappear&nce.,.1  Both  were  slightly  under 
middle  size,  but  while  Robert  was  stout,  ruddy,  and 
had  dark  hair  and  the  side  whiskers  then  known 
as  mutton  chop,  his  brother  was  thin,  pale  and 
even  ascetic  in  appearance  and,  as  I  first  recall 
him,  a  man  quite  bald  and  clean  shaven.  The 
resemblance  so  common  in  twins,  so  entirely  absent 
in  the  case  of  my  uncles,  was  almost  unnaturally 
complete  in  their  mental  and  moral  characteristics. 
Indeed  so  much  alike  were  they  that  it  was  easy 
to  predict  what  one  would  say  from  knowing  what 
the  other  had  said.  Both  were  sparing  of  words 
and  yet  more  sparing  of  money.  Inheriting  a  se 
cure,  long-held,  family  business,  they  conducted  it 
on  conservative  lines  with  some  business  talent,  but 
without  business  genius. 

I  am  fond  of  quoting  my  cousin,  Dr.  Heath,  per 
haps  because  he  not  only  said  unusual  things,  but 
because  they  were  apt  to  set  me  upon  untrodden 
paths  of  thought. 

Once  when  we  were  young  men,  each  doing  his 
life  work  with  every  faculty  in  energetic  service,  he 
said,  "John,  that  was  an  odd  thing  Euphemia  said 
last  night.  You  know  she  never  abuses  people,  even 
our  uncles,  although  she  loathes  them  with  good  rea 
son.  When  I  had  spoken  of  something  unpleasant 
they  had  agreed  upon  as  my  mother's  trustees, 
Euphemia  said,  'They  are  as  much  alike  as  two  peas, 
and  two  very  dried-up  peas  at  that.' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  5 

"I  said,  'Cousin,  no  two  peas  are  unmistakably 
the  same.'  Euphemia  retorted,  'I  said  alike,  not  the 
same/  I  owned  to  defeat,  which  pleased  the  dear 
woman.  In  fact,  those  two  old  men  are,  in  mind, 
enough  alike  to  encourage  disbelief  in  the  one  law 
without  exception,  the  law  of  absolute  individuality." 

I  liked  this  for  I  knew  very  well  that  although 
two  machines  may  be,  as  concerns  construction  and 
material,  to  all  appearances  identical,  they  never 
prove  in  their  working  to  have  the  same  capacity  or 
length  of  usefulness. 

Those  two  human  machines,  my  uncles,  were  at 
one  as  concerned  that  infant,  me,  and  my  disposal. 

The  third  human  providence  in  my  helpless  life 
was  this  remote  cousin,  Euphemia  Swanwick,  of 
whom  I  shall  have  much  to  say.  She  had  from  time 
to  time  uncertain  theoretical  views  concerning  the 
management  of  my  changing  child  life.  Her  for 
tunate  incapacity  to  carry  out  her  theories  was  due  to 
two  other  interfering  providences,  my  cousin's  black 
servants,  to  whose  experienced  knowledge  of  the  wants 
and  needs  of  infants  I  owed  much  of  the  health  and 
happiness  of  these  early  years. 

Euphemia  was  a  personage  of  such  dignified  be 
havior  that  to  see  her  with  abruptness  begin  to 
mimic  people  she  disliked  was  at  times  startling  even 
to  those  who  knew  her  well.  She  had  in  fact  a 
talent  for  mimicry  which  her  good  manners  usually 
kept  in  the  social  background.  I  mention  it  here 
because  it  was  incidentally  the  means  of  my  knowing 


6  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

something  of  the  way  in  which  I  was  placed  in  her 
care. 

When  I  was  some  twenty  years  old  and  Euphemia 
had  acquired  an  intimacy  with  me  she  never  won  in 
my  infancy,  a  question  of  mine  brought  out  one  of 
these  exhibitions  of  hostile  mimicry  which  left  with 
me  a  contributed  memory  of  a  time  of  life  of  which 
I  could  otherwise  have  had  no  knowledge  and  which 
may  serve  here  as  an  introduction  to  my  own  ac 
count  of  John  Sherwood. 

"John,  your  Uncle  Richard's  supply  of  words  was 
as  nearly  dried  up  then  as  now.  By  and  by  he 
will  use  only  signs."  Then  she  hunched  up  her 
large  shoulders,  stooped,  and  said,  "That  is  Dick. 
Robert  is  inconceivable  and,"  with  a  laugh,  "in 
imitable.  They  came  together  to  my  little  house  and 
I  knew  you  were  the  subject  to  be  considered. 
This  was  when  your  mother  was  not  yet  buried." 
Here  again  was  the  queer  presentation  of  Uncle  Dick. 
I  laughed  out  my  applause  of  what  was  a  wonderful 
rendering,  "  'Euphemia,  you  are  to  take  that  baby.' 

'We  so  concluded/  said  Robert. 

'You  will  have  an  increase  of  the  regular  check/ 

'An  increase/  said  Robert. 

'Am  I  to  do  as  I  please  with  the  baby?' 

'No,  do  as  we  please.  We  will  send  you  a  state 
ment  of  what  we  wish  done.' 

'And  not  done/  said  Robert. 

'Yes/  said  Richard,  'not  done.' 

"  'Thank  you,  brothers.'  " 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  7, 

"And  was  that  really  all?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  that  was  all,  and  that  was  the  simple  cere 
mony  by  which  I  acquired  you.  My  butcher  could  not 
have  left  me  a  leg  of  mutton  with  more  indifference. 
Oh,  John,  I  hated  you  and  them.  Dick  is  mean  but 
Robert  is  a  spendthrift  of  meanness.  He  looks — he 
watches  for  chances  like  a  cat  at  a  mousehole. ' '  And 
indeed,  as  concerned  my  uncles,  she  had  reason 
enough  for  her  dislike. 

The  family  council  thus  resulted  in  their  turning 
for  aid  to  my  Cousin  Euphemia,  then  a  maiden  lady 
under  thirty.  This  was  of  necessity  rather  than  of 
choice.  They  were  of  middle  age  and  lived  very 
isolated  lives  in  an  old  home  high  above  the  Schuyl- 
kill  beyond  the  village  of  Manayunk  and  a  mile  or 
so  from  the  family  possession,  certain  moderately 
productive  iron  works  conducted,  as  I  have  said,  in 
a  very  conservative  way,  making  small  profits  which 
they  put  away  in  safe  bonds  or  permanent  ground 
rents.  This  easily  won  competence  brought  them  no 
luxuries  except  the  privilege  of  undisturbed  habits 
of  precise  and  punctual  lives  which  they  were  with 
out  desire  to  have  troubled  by  the  intrusion  of  obvious 
duties. 

I  learned  later  that  they  had  been  reluctant  to  hand 
me  over  to  Euphemia.  In  early  womanhood  she  had 
shocked  the  old  society  of  Philadelphia  by  becoming 
a  Roman  Catholic  and  had  broken  off  a  match  with  an 
army  officer  because  she  declined  to  marry  unless  he 
accepted  the  conditions  her  church  imposed.  She 


8  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

had  lived  ever  since  on  the  small  income  my  uncles 
allowed  her.  This  was  now  to  be  increased,  but  not 
largely,  and  I  was  consigned  to  her  care  with  a  writ 
ten  statement  to  the  effect  that  in  no  way  was  she 
to  interfere  with  my  being  brought  up  in  the  faith 
of  the  Episcopal  Church  which  they  regarded  as  a 
family  possession.  How  my  religious  education  was 
to  be  conducted  they  did  not  say  and  probably  cared 
very  little.  They  themselves  had  no  more  hold  on 
the  creed  they  desired  for  me  than  a  century  of 
family  ownership  of  a  pew  in  St.  Peter's,  less  likely 
to  be  occupied  by  them  than  their  family  vault  in 
the  graveyard  of  the  church. 

Once  a  month  Uncle  Dick  drove  to  the  city  and 
left  with  Euphemia  a  cheque  which  with  economy 
barely  sufficed  to  keep  the  household.  I  am  sure  that 
they  knew  it  had  been  and  was,  far  too  little,  even 
with  their  present  addition.  Euphemia  proudly 
and  silently  accepted  it  without  thanks.  I  am  sure 
that  they  regarded  the  narrowed  life  to  which  their 
disapproval  and  meanness  condemned  her  as  proper 
punishment  for  what  they  considered  to  have  been 
both  social  and  religious  apostasy.  I  suspect  that 
they  gave  little  thought  to  me,  their  sister's  child, 
and  none  as  to  how  I  might  incidentally  suffer  from 
their  punitive  limitation  of  Euphemia 's  income. 

Long  afterwards,  as  the  years  ran  on,  I  often 
wondered  how  my  cousin  regarded  the  unfriended 
waif  left,  as  it  were,  on  the  doorstep  of  the  small 
house  in  Pine  Street.  She  was  not  fond  of  children. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  9 

If  to  love  them  be  an  animal  instinct,  it  is  easily 
lost  by  some  single  women.  I  suspect  that  I  was 
regarded  by  Euphemia  at  first  with  a  certain  dull 
dislike,  then  endured  and  at  last  loved,  for  really  I 
must  have  been  as  I  grew  older  an  interesting  little 
fellow. 

But  this  was  years  later  and  when  I  had  learned 
to  move  with  cautious  respect  among  the  sturdy 
chairs  and  thin-legged  Colonial  fables  she  was  hap 
pily  prevented  by  poverty  from  replacing  with  the 
ugliness  of  the  furniture  of  her  own  day.  As  I  re 
call  the  small  front  drawing-room,  there  were  no 
ornaments  except  on  the  mantel  two  nankin  jars  half 
full  of  the  gathered  rose  leaves  of  three  generations. 
There  is  a  French  name  for  these  dead  rose-leaf 
treasuries,  none  in  English,  I  think.  An  early  re 
membrance  is  of  my  cousin,  a  tall,  handsome  woman, 
consulting  a  family  receipt  book  and  adding  fresh 
rose  leaves  and  strange  perfumes  to  those  which 
hands  long  dead  had  stored  in  the  blue  vases. 

If  I  was  for  Euphemia  an  unwelcome  guest,  I  was 
anything  but  unwelcome  to  those  other  providences, 
my  black  nurse,  Sarah  Koonis,  and  the  yet  blacker 
cook.  These  women  were  well  learned  in  babies  and 
my  cousin,  who  at  first  regarded  me  as  an  ever- 
changing  puzzle,  very  willingly  left  me  in  my  earlier 
days  to  be  guessed  by  the  maternal-minded  blacks 
who  then  and  later  were  my  ready  vassals. 


II 

I  SHOULD  care  little  to  dwell  on  my  childhood 
were  it  not  that  its  peculiar  conditions  and 
singular  social  isolation  from  other  young  lives  left 
me  long  without  the  contradictions  and  discipline 
which  come  out  of  normal  relation  to  other  beings 
as  young  as  I  and  of  other  mental  make.  I  was  for 
tunate  in  that  it  did  not  make  me  more  peculiar,  but 
I  am  sure  that  the  unusual  character  of  my  young 
life  did  to  some  extent  affect  my  later  years.  I  was 
an  only  child  and  a  very  lonely  child. 

When  is  it  that  we  begin  to  acquire  permanent 
memories?  There  are  mysterious  years  and  at  last 
remembrances  of  scenes  and  people  with  long  un 
filled  gaps  and  then  more  distinctly-remembered 
scenes.  The  first  I  now  recall  impressed  me  strangely. 
I  see  my  cousin,  a  tall,  well-made  woman,  settling  a 
dispute  between  the  baker  and  our  cook.  The  bill 
paid  weekly  was  based  on  the  agreement  of  two  tallies, 
thin  laths  of  wood  notched  for  each  loaf  by  the 
baker's  file  when  laid  together.  There  was  some  dis 
agreement.  My  cousin  was  angry.  I  was  wonder 
ing  that  anyone  ventured  to  contradict  her  seeing 
that  she  was  so  big  and  the  baker  so  small,  when  I 

10 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  11 

was  told  to  go  into  the  garden.  I  went  out  as  or 
dered  to  amuse  myself  in  the  hundred  feet  of  flowers 
and  grass  plots  under  the  peach  and  apricot  trees 
which  bore  delicious  and  forbidden  fruit. 

Other  scenes  recur  to  me,  but  generally  it  was 
this  playground  and  as  I  became  older,  when  five  or 
six  years  of  age,  dull  afternoon  walks,  duller  visits 
to  St.  Peter's  church  and  overwhelming  sleepiness 
when  Euphemia  read  to  me  child  stories  of  a  morn 
ing.  My  cousin  had  no  idea  of  fitting  the  book  to 
my  age  or  sex.  When  I  should  have  had  ''Jack  and 
the  Bean-stalk"  I  was  dosed  with  Sanford  and  Mer- 
ton — worst  of  all  was  a  small  volume  called  "Blos 
soms  of  Morality."  These  readings  were  in  the  sit 
ting-room  on  the  second  floor,  which  was  adorned 
with  ghastly  prints  of  the  martyrdoms  of  saints. 
Now  and  then  she  was  pleased  to  read  their  lives 
to  me  and  I  made  up  my  small  mind,  in  the  odd 
secrecy  of  childhood,  that  these  were  very  undesirable 
examples,  being  distinctly  aware  that  even  the  mod 
erate  pain  of  a  spanking  was  more  than  enough  mar 
tyrdom  for  me. 

Such  mild  punishments  as  I  suffered  were  caused  by 
my  increasing  tendency  to  relate  as  seen  by  me  things 
which  were,  more  or  less,  the  product  of  my  imagina 
tion,  aided  by  the  tales  of  animals  which  my  nurse 
told  me  out  of  her  long-descended  negro  folklore. 
Once  I  related  to  my  cousin  having  seen  a  gold  coach 
with  elephants  pulling  it  and  as  I  held  to  it,  I  was 
punished  for  untruthfulness.  I  told  no  more  tales 


12  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

and  fell  back  on  my  own  mental  company  with  un 
shaken  beliefs. 

I  cannot  now  decide  whether  I  fully  believed  I  had 
seen  certain  things  which,  I  became  aware  as  I  de 
scribed  them,  were  not  received  in  a  way  to  encourage 
me  in  constant  frankness.  I  dimly  remember  that  I 
liked  to  astonish  my  cousin  by  my  statements.  I  am 
now  of  opinion  that  my  large  stories  of  things  seen 
were,  to  some  extent,  exaggerations  of  things  really 
seen.  I  suspect,  too,  that  after  half  believing  and 
telling  some  wonderful  thing,  a  firm  conviction  of 
it  as  true  and  real  may  come  about.  This  happens 
even  to  men  and,  I  fancy,  more  easily  to  the  imagina 
tive  young.  If  thus  I  now  and  then  got  into  trouble 
as  an  author  of  fiction,  the  tendency  had  for  me  real 
values,  and  was  the  source  of  distinct  pleasure.  I 
could  give  many  instances  of  what  might  be  of  serv 
ice  were  I  dealing  only  with  the  psychology  of  a  too 
solitary  childhood.  I  must  content  myself,  however, 
with  such  examples  as  show  how  convincing  may  be 
the  imaginations  of  these  early  years. 

Having  seen  on  the  street  a  boy  with  a  bull  terrier 
with  golden  eyes  he  called  Mike,  I  asked  for  a  dog, 
of  which  animal  my  cousin  had  a  horror.  Failing  in 
this,  I  acquired  in  imagination  a  bull  terrier  called 
Mike.  He  lived  in  the  garden,  learned  tricks,  loved 
me  and  was  for  nearly  two  years  my  inconstant  com 
rade. 

Once  I  saw  a  circus  procession  in  the  street.  My 
nurse  went  to  see  this  show  and  I  plead  in  vain  to 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  13 

go.  I  fell  back  as  usual  when  denied  some  coveted 
sight  upon  my  magical  power  to  realize  in  imagina 
tion  what  I  could  not  otherwise  attain.  My  nurse's 
account  of  the  lion  tamer  filled  me  with  wonder.  I 
tamed  two  lions  and  as  my  cousin  had  spoken  of 
St.  Jerome  as  a  lion  for  courage,  I  called  one  lion 
St.  Jerome  and  the  other,  a  lioness,  Euphemia,  to 
my  nurse's  delight.  I  owned  thus  for  a  time  a 
strangely  peopled  world  of  my  own  creation. 

A  child  resembles  some  other  animals  and  has  likes 
and  dislikes,  not  always  easy  to  account  for.  Mine 
had  cause  enough.  My  cousin  as  I  knew  far  later 
revelled  in  spiritual  mysteries  with  an  amazing  ap 
petite  for  beliefs  which  some  have  found  hard  to 
accept.  The  credence  I  desired  for  my  own  small 
products  of  creative  fancy  was  for  her  quite  another 
thing,  but  no  tale  of  mine  was  too  prodigious  for 
my  nursery  or  the  kitchen  hearers.  It  was  on  the 
whole  well  that  it  was  so.  Even  the  lesser  authors 
like  a  receptive  audience. 

During  these  years,  I  dreamed  very  often  of  things 
I  had  seen.  One  day  Sarah  Koonis  stopped  with 
me  to  let  the  bearers  carry  out  a  coffin  and  told  me 
a  man  was  in  it  and  was  dead  and  would  never  move 
or  speak  again.  That  night  I  was  pursued  over  a 
boundless  plain  by  hosts  of  coffins.  This  I  dreamed 
often. 

I  of  course  cannot  fix  the  dates  of  my  memories, 
some  being  early  and  some  later.  I  have  a  life-long 
dislike  of  the  crucifix  as  a  symbol.  This  came  of  a 


14  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

terrible  print  on  my  cousin's  wall  of  the  "Agony  of 
the  Cross"  by  Velasquez.  It  was  a  present  from  one 
of  her  French  friends.  With  some  pride  in  the  gift, 
Euphemia  led  me  by  the  hand  to  look  at  it  as  it 
hung  above  her  prie-Dieu.  For  a  moment  I  stared 
at  that  most  realistic  of  all  renderings  of  the  agony 
of  the  cross.  Then  I  screamed  and  ran  out  of  the 
room.  For  two  or  three  nights,  when  about  to  sleep, 
I  saw  the  down-dragged  figure,  the  long  black  locks 
wet  with  the  death  sweat  falling  over  the  drooped 
white  face.  To  this  day  it  is  a  horrible  remembrance. 
I  must  then  have  been  about  six  or  seven  years  old. 
My  cousin  still  wonders,  if  I  mention  it,  why  it  so 
disturbed  me. 

Euphemia 's  consultations  with  some  of  her  ac 
quaintances  who  were  desirous  to  assist  her  in  the  reg 
ulation  of  my  childhood  now  and  then  resulted  for  me 
in  terrible  trials.  I  was  to  sleep  without  the  light, 
which  my  nurse  was  accustomed  to  put  out  later.  I 
was  to  go  upstairs  to  bed  in  the  dark.  Awful  shapes 
followed  me,  and  I  could  not  go  to  sleep.  As  usual 
these  arrangements  were  soon  disposed  of  by  my 
black  allies.  But  for  the  first  time  I  so  resented 
what  was  a  real  cruelty  that  I  confided  to  my  nurse 
my  intention  to  hoodoo  Euphemia.  I  had  heard  of 
this  terrible  procedure  from  an  aged  black  woman, 
our  cook's  godmother,  who  was  full  of  African  tra 
ditional  tales  of  black  magic  and  exceedingly  recep 
tive  of  my  cousin's  tea.  My  plan  was  discouraged 
and  my  vengeance  foiled. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  15 

There  were  other  visiting  blacks  who  enjoyed  the 
hospitality  of  our  kitchen  and  who  were  some  of^  them 
strange  and  interesting.  One  aged  woman  was  said 
to  be  an  hundred  years  old  and  to  have  seen  Wash 
ington  often.  She  was  full  of  stories  about  ghosts 
who  were  always  of  great  stature  and  black.  Dis 
couraged  in  regard  to  questions  by  my  cousin,  I 
saved  them  for  ready  answer  by  a  voluble  barber  to 
whom  I  was  taken  once  a  month  to  have  my  hair  cut. 
This  man  was  a  handsome,  old  light-colored  mulatto 
called  Aaron  Burr  after  his  putative  father  as  I  have 
since  been  told.  I  had  heard  so  much  in  church 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  that,  with  my  too  ready  imagina 
tion  inflamed  by  kitchen  tales  of  the  returning  dead, 
I  fell  at  last  into  great  terror  of  being  visited  by 
this  special  ghost. 

When  I  consulted  my  barber,  he  told  me  that 
so  long  as  my  hair  was  cut  once  a  month  I  was  en 
tirely  secure.  This  did  relieve  me. 

My  nurse,  who  pitied  my  terror,  assured  me  that 
my  barber  was  rigfet  and  too  advised  me  not  to  carry 
my  doubts  to  Euphemia. 

I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  I  was  long  or  con 
tinually  troubled  by  fear  of  phantoms,  pagan  or 
others.  My  curiosity  was  more  intense  than  my  fleet 
ing  fears  and  my  life  was,  on  the  whole,  far  other  than 
unhappy. 

One  of  my  most  joyous  moments  was  when  Eu 
phemia  with  many  cautions  gave  me  a  long-desired 
jackknife  and  Sarah  Koonis  found  for  me  some 


16  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

pine  shingles.  When  somewhat  later  I  discovered  in 
the  attic  a  box  of  tools,  I  began  to  develop  my  one 
practical  talent  of  inventive  work.  I  remember  to 
have  made  at  last  a  set  of  jack  straws,  spillikins 
my  Uncle  Richard  called  them  when  my  cousin 
proudly  exhibited  them,  and  he  declared  to  my  joy 
that  some  day  he  must  have  me  in  the  iron  works 
and  that  it  was  time  I  learned  to  read. 

Euphemia  undertook  to  teach  me.  I  had  no  desire 
to  assist,  and  found  it  hard,  until  I  began  to  know 
what  a  new  world  it  opened  among  the  books  with 
prints  my  secret  prowlings  discovered  in  a  wonder- 
filled  attic.  On  the  rule  of  three  we  both  stuck  fast 
and  why  some  fractions  are  improper  she  could  not 
tell  me.  The  day  before  we  came  onto  this  arith 
metical  obstacle,  I  had  been  found  guilty  of  throwing 
too-well  aimed  stones  at  a  neighbor's  cat  and  of  mak 
ing  faces  at  a  justly  angered  cook.  I  was  told  that  it 
was  highly  improper,  and  now  I  was  to  discover  that 
certain  fractions  were  improper.  I  kept  my  child 
puzzle  to  myself,  for  being  at  the  age  of  inquiry,  I 
had  learned  that  like  certain  people  who  fail  of 
sympathy  with  a  child,  my  cousin  disliked  questions, 
being  in  fact,  although  a  woman  of  many  books,  of 
very  little  basic  education. 

I  look  back  with  wonder  at  the  unnatural  limita 
tions  of  my  young  life  and  too  on  the  narrowness 
of  Euphemia 's.  Her  few  friends  were  within  a 
small  circle  of  Roman  Catholic  gentlefolks,  descend 
ants  of  the  early  refugees  who  fled  from  Hayti 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  17 

or  Martinique.  Among  her  acquaintances  were  also 
a  small  number  of  people  belonging  to  the  long-seated 
Philadelphia  families,  but  most  of  her  friends  were 
old  and  there  were  few  with  whose  children  I  ever 
became  more  than  merely  acquainted.  If  there  had 
been  anyone  with  the  common  sense  to  complain  of 
my  strangely  isolated  life,  I  might  have  had  it  whole 
somely  bettered.  I  was,  however,  a  well-contented 
child,  good-humored,  gaily  inventive,  well  fed  and 
with  Nurse  Koonis  ready  to  do  whatever  I  desired. 

It  can  never  have  occurred  to  my  cousin  that  I 
ought  to  want  playmates.  In  fact,  I  did  not  feel  or 
show  the  want.  Her  church  absorbed  Euphemia,  as 
it  is  apt  to  do  converts;  and  until  later  I  was  in 
some  measure  forced  upon  her  attention,  she  felt  no 
need  to  enlarge  my  life.  Of  my  father  and  mother, 
who  had  disliked  her  change  of  creed,  she  never  spoke, 
and  I  was  too  young  to  be  exactingly  curious,  nor 
were  there  any  relatives  to  interfere  except  my 
uncles,  who  knew  of  a  child's  wants  even  less  than 
did  Euphemia,  and  even  had  they  known  would  have 
cared  still  less. 

Priests  from  St.  Joseph's  and  St.  Mary's  were  re 
sourceful  values  in  her  narrow  social  life.  These 
clerics  drew  on  her  small  funds  and  brought  her 
rosaries  and  the  like.  One  day  a  Mission  priest  gave 
me  an  Indian  doll,  a  hideous  wooden  creature  in 
feather  dress  and  leggins.  It  pleased  me  until  I 
showed  it  to  my  nurse,  who  broke  into  wild  anger. 

"Why  for  she  let  him  give  you  that?     The  Indians 


18  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

killed  your  father,  the  brave  Colonel,  way  out  west! 
Did  no  one  tell  you?"  And  then  I  heard  the  sad 
story  of  a  gallant  soldier's  death. 

I  remember  that  a  sudden  rage  possessed  me.  My 
nurse  said,  "Burn  it,  Master  John,"  but  I  was  not 
so  minded.  The  martyrs  they  burned  were  good.  I 
ran  out  into  the  garden  and  cut  off  the  Indian's  head 
with  my  knife.  I  buried  him,  feathers  and  all,  and 
stamped  on  his  grave.  Then  Mike  came,  but  I  only 
sat  down  on  the  porch  and  cried,  which  was  rare 
with  me,  realizing  in  my  too  vivid  way  the  Indian 
fight.  I  was  afraid  that  my  cousin  would  inquire 
about  the  doll.  It  did  not  concern  her.  Few  things 
did.  Her  horizons  of  interest  were  limited.  They 
broadened  somewhat  in  later  and  happier  years. 


Ill 


MY  eighth  birthday,  August  11,  was  memorable. 
My  mother's  cousin,  Mrs.  Heath,  had  recently 
come  from  Lancaster  to  live  in  a  large  house  on  the 
Germantown  road  opposite  the  graveyard  where  lie 
the  English  dead  of  the  battle  of  Germantown.  We 
were  asked  to  spend  Saturday.  Euphemia  was 
enough  excited  to  attract  my  attention.  I  felt  as  if 
we  were  about  to  go  to  a  foreign  country,  for  indeed 
we  had  never  been  able  to  leave  the  city.  My  ac 
quaintance  with  nature  had  been  limited  to  staid 
walks  in  Washington  Square.  Once  we  were  asked, 
by  Uncle  Dick,  evidently  to  Euphemia 's  surprise,  to 
visit  the  iron  works  and  remain  over  Sunday,  but  a 
heavy  rain  forbade  my  cousin  to  travel  those  eight 
miles  and  so  far  as  I  know  we  were  not  again  invited. 
Year  after  year,  we  endured  the  long,  hot  summer 
in  the  city,  nor  was  it  the  custom  then  as  now  to 
spend  the  whole  summer  in  the  country. 

The  drive  to  Mrs.  Heath's  along  the  pike,  past 
farms,  cattle  and  country  houses  was  to  me  as 
strange,  as  interesting  and  as  wonderful  as  it  might 
have  been  to  a  young  barbarian.  I  hardly  heard 
my  cousin's  timid  complaints  of  the  risks  we  ran 
from  being  driven  so  fast.  In  the  large  vine-clad 

19 


20  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

house  set  back  from  the  road,  Mrs.  Heath  made  us 
welcome  with  the  usual  wine  and  cakes  of  the  day, 
and  Harry  Heath  being  away  on  an  errand  I  was 
lightly  bidden  to  run  out  and  play. 

My  cousin  said,  "But  Ann  Heath,  he  never  goes 
out  without  his  nurse." 

"Then  it  is  time  he  did.  What,  a  nurse  at  eight! 
Eun,  boy!" — my  cousin  crying,  "and  do  be  careful, 
John!" 

I  ran  out  as  bidden,  feeling  the  sense  of  adventure 
as  I  saw  the  chickens,  the  cows  and  Harry's  pony 
and  his  hutch  of  guinea  pigs.  I  asked  a  wondering 
maid  what  they  were. 

I  wandered  down  an  orchard  slope  and,  aware  of 
joyous  iniquity,  plucked  plums  and  peaches  and 
climbing  my  first  fence  sat  down  beside  the  brook 
which  crossed  a  small  marshy  meadow. 

Here  Harry  Heath  had  built  a  dam  and  below  it 
a  water  wheel  which  did  not  work.  I  had  then  and 
there  a  sensation  of  personal  pride  because  I  had 
contrived  to  make  the  hydrant  in  Euphemia's  garden 
run  a  better  water  wheel.  Harry  might  own  a  pony 
and  guinea  pigs,  but  he  could  not  build  a  good  over 
shot  wheel  such  as  there  were  pictures  of  in  a  book 
on  machines  found  in  our  attic.  Later  when  I  over 
heard  Aunt  Heath  say  I  was  more  like  a  nice  girl 
than  a  boy,  this  water  wheel  consoled  me  and  some 
how  raised  my  estimate  of  that  human  variety,  a 
girl,  concerning  whom  I  knew  little  or  nothing. 

Pleased   with   the   newly   won   self-esteem   I   had 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  21 

acquired,  I  went  rashly  to  defeat.  Beyond  the 
meadow  was  a  deep  spring.  Of  a  sudden  I  came 
at  its  margin  upon  two  unknown  creatures,  enormous 
bullfrogs  who  faced  my  ignorant  gaze  with  golden 
eyes.  One  of  them  uttered  the  loud  cry  boys  say  is 
* '  Bloodynoun. "  I  fled  in  terror  over  the  brook  and 
up  the  orchard  where  I  met  a  handsome  lad,  Harry 
Heath,  two  years  older  than  I  and  many  years  wiser 
in  boy  knowledge. 

Perhaps  counselled  by  his  mother  and  by  a  very 
amiable  nature  he  was  then  and  later  kind  to  me 
and  thus  began  a  life-long  friendship.  After  this 
we  were  much  together  for  our  common  good,  and 
through  him  during  our  frequent  visits  I  came  to 
know  other  boys.  He  was  pleased  with  my  inventive 
capacity  and  I  learned  with  him  to  be  less  fearful 
and  timid  and  soon  became  what  my  Uncle  Dick  de 
scribed  as  rather  a  handful  for  Euphemia. 

As  I  heard  later,  Mrs.  Heath  wrote  to  him  that  it 
was  an  outrage  to  bring  up  a  boy  as  I  was  being 
brought  up.  He  resented  the  interference,  but  a 
year  or  more  later  it  resulted — I  was  now  about  ten 
— in  my  being  sent  to  the  day  grammar  school  of 
the  university.  I  do  not  desire  to  dwell  on  the 
earlier  troubles  a  shy  lad  met  with  in  the  barbarian 
tribe  of  boys.  Except  for  Harry  I  had  been  worse 
off,  for  until  he  taught  me  through  much  tribulation 
to  box,  I  was  sadly  bullied  and  took  more  and  more 
to  my  father's  books  on  primary  physics  and  certain 
of  Marryat's  novels  I  found  in  my  attic  mine  of 


22  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

treasures,  and  to  attempt  to  construct  in  wood  the 
model  of  a  boat  with  paddle  wheels  to  make  voyages 
to  foreign  lands  on  that  delightful  dam. 

Meanwhile  I  grew  large  and  strong  and  as  I  grew 
became  anything  but  a  source  of  happiness  to  Eu- 
phemia,  who  was  distressed  at  my  desire  to  accept 
risks  and  to  escape  feminine  control  and  because  my 
boy  appetite  appeared  to  her  abnormal.  She  had 
always  had  certain  odd  ideas  concerning  what  and 
how  much  I  should  eat,  but  as  she  went  to  mass 
daily  and  very  early,  my  growing  appetite  was  fed 
at  least  at  breakfast  by  my  old  nurse  with  whatever 
I  wanted.  I  may  thus  have  troubled  somewhat  my 
cousin's  meagre  purse  but  I  highly  approved  of  the 
incidental  advantages  of  her  religious  fervor. 

As  my  little  world  was  thus  enlarging  the  years  ran 
on  until  at  fifteen  I  was  a  sturdy  boy  ready  to  go  to 
the  University,  for  in  those  days  we  went  young. 
Then  two  events  changed  to  my  joy  the  course  of 
my  life. 

I  had  become  more  venturesome  than  my  Cousin 
Harry  and  one  day,  having  great  faith  in  attic  con 
tributions  to  boy  resources,  I  persuaded  my  doubt 
ing  kinsman  to  see  if  we  could  not  find  in  their  loft 
strong  paper  for  a  new  form  of  kite  I  had  invented. 
We  came  on  some  great  folio  volumes  of  accounts 
on  good  stiff  paper,  entirely  fit  for  our  use.  Mrs. 
Heath  soon  discovered  that  we  were  sending  into 
the  skies  the  account  books  of  her  grandfather,  the 
Quartermaster  General  of  Washington's  army.  She 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  23 

was  very  angry  and  wrote  to  Uncle  Dick  that  I  "the 
girl  boy!"  was  leading  Harry  into  mischief  and 
needed  the  rule  of  a  man.  He  took  no  action  until 
the  final  adventure  which  came  near  to  ending  my 
life. 

I  had  found  some  boys  at  school  I  liked  and  when 
Harry  Heath,  a  favorite  of  Euphemia,  begged  that 
I  might  spend  Christmas  with  two  of  the  lads  whose 
parents  had  invited  us  to  visit  their  home  near  Atzion 
Mill  Ponds  in  New  Jersey,  my  cousin,  pleased  to  have 
me  off  her  hands  in  the  holiday  season,  gladly  as 
sented.  For  once  I  was  free  and  in  a  home  joyously 
hospitable.  We  skated,  sleighed,  snowballed,  and  at 
last  set  to  work  to  build  on  my  design  an  ice  boat 
such  as  I  had  seen  described.  My  earnestness  over 
came  Harry's  caution.  We  fastened  sleds  together, 
rigged  sails  out  of  sheets  we  induced  the  maids  to 
lend  us  and  set  in  place  a  rudder  and  the  required 
brakes. 

One  cold  winter  morning  early  all  four  of  us  got 
aboard  and  with  a  shout  set  off  before  a  wild  north 
east  gale  over  a  mile-long  stretch  of  ice  which  boys 
called  "glip,"  that  is,  smooth  (not  to  be  found  in  the 
dictionaries).  The  speed  was  all  that  could  be  de 
sired.  Harry,  alarmed  as  we  neared  the  farther 
shore,  put  on  the  brakes,  which  refused  to  hold. 
The  rudder  snapped  and  all  I  recall  was  a  quick 
sense  of  the  peril  of  stumps  in  the  shallows,  a  wild 
crash  and  then  no  more. 

I  woke  up  the  third  day  a  bit  bewildered  to  see 


24  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Uncle  Dick  and  a  doctor  at  my  bedside.  My  con 
cussion  of  the  brain  got  well  promptly  while  I  lay 
quiet  thinking  over  a  better  brake.  Harry  broke 
his  collar  bone  and  the  others  got  off  with  bruises. 
Ann  Heath  was  furious  and  Euphemia  now  declared 
that  I  would  end  badly  and  confessed  future  inability 
to  control  me. 

Two  days  after  my  return  home,  Uncle  Dick  and 
Robert  called,  and  I  was  sent  for  by  Euphemia. 

My  uncle  said,  "That  was  a  poor  ice  boat,  John." 

"It  was  the  brakes,  sir.     I  can  make  better  ones." 

"You  might,  but  you  will  not.  You  are  to  go 
to  the  works  to-day  week." 

I  said  meekly,  "Yes,  sir." 

"Now,"  he  returned,  "take  care  how  you  behave. 
There  will  be  no  weak  woman  to  coddle  you."  This 
was  hard  on  Euphemia,  who  drew  herself  up  in  her 
chair  but  said  not  a  word. 

"Your  cousin  has  written  to  me  that  she  is  un 
able  to  manage  you  any  longer." 

"Yes,  sir."  I  knew  very  well  that  with  the  aid 
of  the  two  blacks,  I  had  of  late  done  pretty  much 
as  I  pleased. 

He  said  to  Euphemia,  "You  ought  to  have  com 
plained  long  ago.  You  have  brought  him  up  badly." 

"I  might  have  complained,"  said  Euphemia,  "but 
it  would  have  been  useless." 

"Would  it?"  said  Richard.  "Now  we  must  take 
this  unruly  lad  away.  Good  hard  work  at  the  mills 
will  keep  him  in  order." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  25 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  delighted;  "I  would  like  that." 

"No  one  spoke  to  you.     Hold  your  tongue!" 

Euphemia  flushed  and  said  timidly,  "Must  he  go? 
I  shall  miss  him."  She  looked  at  me  with  tearful 
eyes  and  indeed  had  come  to  love  her  unmanageable 
ward.  ' 

"What  are  you  crying  about?"  said  Eichard  West. 
"You  ought  to  be  pleased." 

"I  am  not." 

"Well,  he  must  go  and  learn  to  behave  himself. 
Here  is  your  cheque,  Euphemia.  You  have  misman 
aged  this  boy  and  now  we  are  to  suffer.  You  will 
not  need  as  much  as  when  John  was  with  you." 

Even  then  from  what  the  servants  said  and  what, 
as  an  observant  lad  I  had  seen  of  poor  Euphemia 's 
occasional  straits,  I  knew  enough  and  this  meanness 
shocked  me.  I  hated  my  uncle  then  and  never  after 
got  near  to  liking  him. 

Robert  said,  "I  am  of  Eichard 's  opinion.  We 
ought  to  have  had  an  account  of  what  was  spent  on 
this  boy." 

Now  and  for  the  first  time  my  cousin  spoke  out 
the  gathered  resentment  and  contempt  of  years.  She 
rose  to  her  feet  and  towering  over  the  two  small  men, 
said,  "Between  you  there  is  not  enough  of  honor, 
manners  or  kindness  to  make  the  half  of  a  man,  not  to 
say  gentleman.  Take  your  money. ' '  Eed  and  angry, 
she  tore  the  cheque  to  pieces  and  threw  it  on  the 
floor.  "I  can  beg,  work,  earn  my  bread,  but  I  will 
not  allow  you  to  insult  me." 


26  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  never  before  had  felt  proud  of  this  high-minded 
cousin — now  I  was. 

The  two  dried-up  twins  looked  at  her,  amazed  and 
for  a  moment  dumb. 

"But,  Euphemia,"  said  Richard  West. 

"Euphemia,"  gasped  Robert. 

"Show  these  persons  the  door,  John,  the  door!" 

They  went  like  lambs,  speechless. 

Euphemia  said  to  me  next  day,  "For  your  sake, 
my  dear  John,  I  have  stood  more  than  you  will  ever 
know.  Now  they  fear  what  our  little  world  will  say 
of  them.  They  have  written  me  an  apology  and  re 
considered  their  decision.  For  your  sake  I  accept 
it,  because  if  I  do  not  you  may — oh,  you  would  be 
taken  out  of  my  life  altogether  and  that  I  could  not 
bear."  Then  she  kissed  me,  which  was  rare,  and 
sent  me  away,  my  cheeks  wet  with  her  tears. 

That  night,  on  my  way  up  to  bed,  I  went  into 
Euphemia 's  sitting-room  as  usual  to  bid  her  good 
night.  I  paused  in  the  doorway  when  I  saw  that 
she  was  kneeling  on  the  prie-Dieu  in  prayer. 

Presently  she  rose  and  said,  "I  was  praying  for 
you,  John.  Sit  down  by  me.  I  want  to  say  a  word. 
You  are  going  among  rough  men.  Take  care  of  your 
manners.  For  a  lad,  they  are  good.  As  concerns 
your  uncles,  they  are  not  so  hard  as  they  are  un- 
thoughtful  of  others.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  Richard 
and  discuss  the  propriety  of  waiting  a  year  before 
he  took  you  away.  I  can  not  always  manage  you, 
but  I  shall  miss  you.  I  saw  that  it  was  useless  to 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  27 

say  that  or  anything  to  Kichard.  He  has  never  been 
either  generous  or  kind  or  disposed  to  listen.  He  is 
a  man  who  has  neither  religion  nor  manners.  As 
concerns  Robert  he  is  not  a  man — he  is  a  thing. 
The  only  difference  between  them  is  that  each  is 
worse  than  the  other. "  Never  before  had  I  heard 
from  her  a  word  of  complaint.  "Now  kiss  me  and 
go  to  bed.  I  have  lost  my  temper,  but  really,  Rich 
ard  West  is — there,  I  am  beginning  again.  Good 
night. " 

If  Euphemia  was  troubled  at  this  separation,  I  was 
not.  For  a  year  or  more,  indeed  ever  since  Uncle 
Dick  bestowed  meagre  alms  of  praise  on  my  spillikins, 
and  said  some  day  the  works  would  be  in  the  place  for 
me  I  had  longed  at  times  with  the  born  inventor's 
longing  for  what  now  was  to  be  mine. 


ALL  that  week  I  thought  and  dreamed  machin 
ery  and  on  a  Monday,  with  rough  working 
clothes  in  my  trunk,  amid  the  tears  of  Euphemia  and 
my  old  nurse,  I  left  home  and  was  driven  eight  miles 
to  a  house  near  the  works,  where  I  was  welcomed  by 
the  foreman  of  one  of  the  shops  and  his  wife.  They 
were  kindly,  childless  folk,  who  were,  I  fancy,  sur 
prised  that  I  was  inclined  to  be  pleased  at  the  prospect 
of  hard  labour.  I  arrived  at  noon  and  was  eager  to 
go  at  once  and  visit  the  long  range  of  shops  which  I 
regarded  as  my  future  home. 

Mark  Penryn  laughed  what  he  called  a  good  fat- 
Cornish  laugh.  He  used  to  say  Americans  did  not 
know  how  to  laugh. 

"Oh,  you  11  be  having  enough  and  too  much  of 
them.  It  's  the  office  wants  you  just  now.  Come 
along."  This  was  after  the  meal  at  noon. 

We  walked  over  the  snow,  hearing  the  roar  and 
clang  of  machines.  The  singular  rhythm  of  the 
hammer  blows  where  boiler  plates  were  riveted  rang 
music  to  me  and  said  bits  of  phrase  which  my  imag 
ination  interpreted  after  a  habit  of  mine,  "Come, 
come  along,  along. "  My  whole  soul  was  answering 
this  call. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  29 

''You  are  not  hearing  me,"  said  Penryn,  a  ruddy 
man,  humorously  kind,  "and  me  a  man  of  nigh  to 
thirty  winters  discoursing  wisdom  to  a  boy. ' ' 

' ( It  is  the  great  fine  noise. ' ' 

"Oh,  is  it?  A  nice  new  plaything  for  a  little  gen 
tleman.  My  wife  has  lived  thirty  summers.  You'll 
be  liking  her  soft  woman  talk  better  than  mine. ' ' 

I  said  quickly,  "I  did  not  hear  you.  It  is  all  so 
new,  and  I  came  to  work.  Can't  a  boy  be  a  gen 
tleman  and  a  workman?  I  'm  sorry  I  did  not 
listen. " 

The  big  man  stopped,  faced  me,  set  great  hands 
on  my  shoulders  and  said,  "Keep  to  that.  You  've 
got  a  good  job.  Keep  it.  Dick  West  is  like  to  be 
harder  on  you  than  on  us.  He  can't  get  inside  a 
man  and  I  set  it  up  as  sure  he  '11  always  be  outside 
of  you.  I  've  had  to  break  in  some  boy  colts;  never 
had  a  good  one.  Do  you  want  a  bit  of  advice? — " 

I  said  "Yes." 

"Well,  then,  listen,  and  never  answer  back.  Be  on 
time.  Say  your  prayers  and  be  watchful  of  the  cruel 
ways  of  machines.  Can  you  use  your  fists?  There 
are  rough  lads  here." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  can." 

"We  '11  put  on  the  gloves  of  a  Sunday.  I  'm  an 
old  hand  at  it.  Get  the  first  blow  and  hit  hard — the 
left  hand  first,  a  man  never  expects  that." 

With  this  exposition  of  the  duties  of  my  new  life, 
we  came  to  the  office.  Here  was  a  large,  rather  ill- 
kept  room  with  cobwebbed  windows,  clerks  on  high 


30  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

stools,  and  the  lean,  pallid  man  I  knew  as  Uncle 
Dick. 

He  said  only,  "Come  with  me,  John  Sherwood," 
and  entering  his  private  office,  bade  me  sit  down. 
"  You  look  big  enough  to  take  care  of  yourself.  Don't 
bring  me  any  complaints.  Be  punctual,  winter  at 
seven,  six  in  summer.  You  will  be  errand  boy  at 
this  office  for  two  months  and  here  I  am  not  Uncle 
Dick,  but  Mr.  West." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  pay  your  board.  Your  wages  will  be  three 
dollars  a  week,  too  much  Robert  thinks.  Take  this 
note  to  Jameson  in  the  boiler  shop.  That  's  all." 

I  went  out.  Errand  boy!  My  whole  heart  was 
with  the  noisy  machines.  After  some  inquiry  I 
found  my  man  and  returning  came  near  the  great 
steam  engine.  I  stayed,  catching  my  breath,  fasci 
nated  before  the  huge  gleaming  fly-wheel,  noiseless, 
a  certain  majesty  in  its  steadying  control.  I  knew 
enough  to  comprehend  to  some  extent  the  flow  of 
power  which  belt  and  rack  work  were  distributing. 

Suddenly  I  heard  my  uncle  beside  me,  "A  half 
hour  on  a  five-minute  errand.  Go  to  the  office."  I 
went. 

On  the  miserable  waste  of  waiting  hours  in  the 
office  with  nothing  to  do  I  need  not  dwell.  "Take 
a  book,"  said  Penryn,  to  whom  I  complained. 
Thereafter  I  was  in  my  soul's  very  land  of  happiness 
and  was  not  again  reproved  for  idling.  He  had  lent 
me  a  volume  on  the  construction  of  locomotives. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  31 

This  was  late  in  1861.  The  greedy  demands  of 
war  were  already  urgent  and  we  were  running  day 
and  night.  Cannon  were  cast  and  rifled.  There 
were  mortars,  shells,  engine  boilers,  contracts  clam 
orous  for  fulfillment,  a  great,  eager,  never-satisfied 
appetite  of  the  demon  war.  As  boys  we  had  heard 
the  noise  of  extras  called,  of  battles,  death-lists,  and 
knew  also  of  cricket  clubs  broken  up  when  elder 
brothers  were  claimed  by  the  all-demanding  conflict. 
What  I  now  saw  served  to  bring  it  nearer.  These 
great  busy  works  too  were  fighting  for  a  nation's 
unity. 

"Once,"  said  Penryn,  "we  went  on  quietly  mak 
ing  money.  Now,  it  is  too  much  for  your  uncles. 
It  is  all  a  drive  and  hurry  does  kill  old  men.  It  is 
killing  those  old  uncles. " 

It  was  not  killing  me.  At  last  I  was  set  to  work 
in  the  shops  to  learn  filing,  and  then  as  machine 
boy-aid.  I  was  thus  moved  as  time  ran  on  from  one 
to  another  piece  of  mechanism  and  at  last  to  the 
engine  room. 

Of  my  uncles  I  saw  almost  nothing.  Eobert  was 
rarely  seen  outside  of  the  counting  house.  Richard 
West  walked  about  the  works,  worried  by  new  ma 
chines,  anxious  and  silent.  Now  and  again  he  sent 
for  me  and  told  me  of  some  change  in  my  work.  I 
never  have  seen  a  man  who  had  as  limited  a  range 
of  interests  or  who  transacted  the  business  of  life 
with  so  small  an  expenditure  of  words. 

When  a  foreman  complained  to  Penryn  that  Rich- 


32  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

ard  West  was  a  hard  master,  the  Cornish  man  said, 
"He  is  a  slave,  not  a  master/'  and  yet  he  chose  his 
subordinates  well,  as  I  saw.  I  got  from  him  neither 
praise  nor  blame.  Only  once  in  all  these  years  did 
he  ask  me  a  personal  question. 

"You  are  to  go  to-morrow  to  the  boiler  work.  I 
Bee  you  have  a  black  eye." 

"Yes,  Uncle." 

"Mr.  West— lad?" 

"Yes,  sir,  a  fight." 

"Got  licked?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  that  will  do." 

This  seemed  to  be  the  limit  of  his  interest,  except 
that  Euphemia  and  I  were  year  after  year  invited, 
in  my  case  ordered,  to  dine  with  my  uncles  on  the 
4th  of  July.  Euphemia  always  declined  to  accept, 
saying  simply  that  she  was  unable  to  dine  with  them. 

It  was  clearly  in  her  interest  to  have  cultivated 
closer  relations,  but  despite  the  poverty  which  the 
twins  decreed  for  her,  Euphemia  was  not  of  the 
nature  which  surrenders.  She  starved  herself  after 
I  left  to  give  money  to  the  poor  and  her  church, 
and  cherished  an  abiding  sense  of  insult  of  which 
she  spoke  to  me  once  only  when  both  uncles  were 
dead.  I,  of  course,  went  to  dine  as  requested. 

There  was  a  look  of  what  I  may  describe  as  shabby 
wealth  about  the  house  and  all  I  saw;  the  old  silver, 
uncleaned,  stood  on  the  sideboard,  and  good  por 
traits  of  Wests  and  Sherwoods  in  worn  frames  hung 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  33 

on  the  walls.  The  dust  everywhere  would  have  made 
Euphemia  weep. 

The  dinner  was  excessive  and  the  cooking  good, 
but  the  service  by  old  colored  men  in  much  worn 
clothes  was  careless  and  inattentive.  Young  as  I 
was,  the  amazing  silence  of  these  two  old  men  and 
their  discourteous  neglect  of  the  guest  made  me 
angry. 

The  mistakes  and  disasters  of  the  war  they  were 
feeding  were  scarcely  mentioned.  When  I  was  older 
I  used  to  bring  in  some  questions  of  general  concern. 
I  got  brief  answers  and  the  talk  died,  in  a  hopelessly 
neutral  social  atmosphere.  I  used  to  wonder  if  these 
old  men  loved  one  another.  Penryn  said,  "No,  they 
are  attached  to  one  another,  that  's  all,  far  as  I  can 
see." 

At  last,  at  the  close  of  the  meal,  the  Madeira  was 
put  on  table  and  I  was  given  a  glass.  My  uncle 
Dick  rose  and  said,  "The  memory  of  Washington." 
After  dinner  both  men  fell  asleep  in  their  arm 
chairs  and  I  slipped  out,  glad  to  get  away. 

Once  a  month,  on  Saturday  afternoon,  I  walked 
eight  miles  to  town  and  spent  Sunday  with  my 
cousin,  or  the  Heaths,  and  in  searches  among  the 
various  treasures  I  still  found  in  my  attic  room. 
Euphemia  was  changing.  She  was  more  precise, 
more  inconsequent  and  not  once  in  these  years 
spoke  of  my  uncles.  Now,  however,  she  clung  to  me 
as  never  before,  liking  my  visits  and  always  greeting 
me  with  a  kiss,  which  from  childhood  I  disliked 

3 


34  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

and  which  as  I  grew  older  curiously  emoarrassed 
me. 

I  took  away  from  my  treasure-attic  more  advanced 
books  on  artillery  and  at  last  my  father's  sword  and 
epaulettes.  Save  for  my  good,  shrewd  Cornish 
friends  and  rare  visits  to  me  from  Harry  Heath, 
my  life  was  an  existence  as  apart  from  general  human 
sympathetic  interest  as  had  been  my  childhood. 

But  I  was  now  eighteen  and  had  found  what  was 
for  years  my  most  valued  association.  If  I  say  that 
I  had  a  sort  of  friendly  relation  to  the  numberless 
mechanisms  among  which  I  moved,  it  may  seem  an 
excessive  statement.  The  vivid  creative  imagination 
of  child  life  awoke  anew  in  endless  thought  of  ma 
chines  I  was  ever  inventing  or  bettering.  I  dreamed 
of  them,  drew  them,  was  encouraged  by  Penryn  or 
laughed  at  as  a  dreamer,  for  this  is  of  the  poetry 
of  invention.  I  was  sorry  when  one  of  our  machines 
went  wrong.  A  false  sound  struck  me.  I  knew  the 
language  of  every  one  of  these  complex  mechanisms, 
their  quick  speech,  their  pauses,  or  when  they  stut 
tered.  At  any  time  amid  all  this  whirr  and  buzz 
and  clatter,  I  would  stop  arrested  by  a  wrong  note. 
This  is  a  sure  quality  of  the  inventor.  At  nine 
teen,  I  drew  and  then  modelled  my  well-known  de 
vice  to  be  attached  to  cannon  in  order  to  register 
automatically  the  number  of  times  they  are  fired. 
Penryn  showed  it  to  Uncle  Dick,  who  was  unready 
to  accept  novelties,  but  the  Government  Inspector  at 
once  took  it  up  and  it  was  used  on  all  our  cannon. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  35 

At  twenty  I  was  assistant  foreman  of  the  boiler 
shop  and  knew  the  works  as  no  other  did.  On  my 
birthday,  August  11,  which  has  often  been  the  date 
of  memorable  incidents,  two  things  happened.  The 
men  refused  to  work  inside  of  a  boiler  because  of  the 
deadly  heat.  I  said  at  once,  "I  order  no  man  to  do 
what  in  his  place  I  would  be  afraid  to  do."  I 
stripped  to  the  waist,  took  a  hammer  and  went  in. 
In  two  hours  I  was  pulled  out  insensible  from  heat 
stroke.  When,  three  days  later,  I  awakened  with 
no  more  than  a  headache,  I  learned  that  Uncle 
Eobert  West  had  died  suddenly  while  I  was  in  the 
boiler. 

Uncle  Dick  and  Euphemia  came  to  see  me  before 
I  was  fit  to  work.  He  said  little  except  that  I  was 
to  call  on  Sunday  at  ten  A.  M.,  but  of  his  brother's 
death,  not  a  word,  nor  of  my  courage,  of  which 
Penryn  spoke.  After  this  event  Uncle  Dick  became 
more  and  more  a  silent  man,  although  he  always  ap 
peared  to  keep  himself  aware  of  what  I  was  doing 
and  how  my  work  was  done. 

What  this  uncle  really  was  I  never  knew.  The 
little  I  did  know  came  to  me  through  Mark  Penryn, 
who  lost  no  chance  of  setting  me  before  my  uncle 
in  a  favorable  point  of  view.  Mark  was  right  in  his 
judgment  of  the  man  as  being  himself  uninteresting, 
and  uninterested  except  in  the  accumulation  of  money 
which  added  nothing  to  the  pleasure  of  life.  If  he 
had  any  other  less  distinct  characteristic  it  was  fam 
ily  pride  in  our  old  colonial  line,  of  which  once,  and 


36  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

only  once,  he  spoke  to  me  at  one  of  those  sombre  din 
ners  I  so  greatly  disliked. 

Euphemia  would  not  go  to  Robert's  funeral  serv 
ices  at  St.  Peter 's.  She  said,  l  i  How  can  I  ?  For  two 
reasons,  John,  I  cannot." 

I  did  not  attempt  to  reply  and  then  learned  from 
her  that  Robert  had  left  all  of  his  property  to  Rich 
ard.  When  I  kept  the  engagement  made  for  me, 
I  learned  that  I  was  to  have  an  office  room  and  be 
come  assistant  to  the  general  manager.  It  was  not 
quite  to  my  liking,  but  I  was  now  to  receive  seven 
hundred  dollars  a  year  and  to  have  more  leisure 
to  hatch  out  the  inventions  I  began  to  patent  and 
which  are,  many  of  them,  still  in  use,  especially  the 
air  cushion  recoil  brake,  and  the  determination  of 
the  relation  of  rifling  curves  to  the  calibre  of  ord 
nance. 

Pleasure  in  the  details  of  a  man 's  work  is  a  valuable 
asset.  I  loved  it  all  and  still  no  joy  was  greater 
than  at  night  when  inspecting  the  shops,  to  stand 
still  and  hear  the  thunderous  orchestra  or  to  watch 
the  quiet  motion  of  that  mighty  fly-wheel  which  had 
so  fascinated  me  on  my  first  day  at  the  mills. 

I  could  have  found  pleasure  in  the  company  of 
the  highly-educated  army  officers  who  came  as  in 
spectors  of  our  work  and  whom  I  might  have  found 
interesting.  I  discussed  with  them  cannon-rifling 
and  the  like  and  then  retired  into  that  silence  and 
self-absorption  which  is  what  the  inventor  craves 
and  the  poet  must  have  in  his  times  of  product.  It 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  37 

was  not  altogether  good  for  me.  Harry  Heath  used 
to  say  so.  I  know  it  now,  for  the  years  are  wise 
preachers.  I  was  losing  all  human  interests  in  the 
ardor  of  an  entrancing  success.  Only  a  woman,  the 
woman,  could  have  turned  me  aside. 

For  a  while  I  missed  the  manual  labor  which  had 
put  and  kept  me  in  high  condition  and  to  keep  up 
my  useful  habits  of  exercise  I  liked  better  than  any 
sport  to  go  daily  to  an  anvil,  take  a  sledge  hammer 
and  get  a  half  hour  of  violent  exercise.  In  my 
craving  for  leisure  to  invent  new  mechanical  devices 
which  would  some  time  be  of  use  in  perfecting  our 
product,  I  by  degrees  gave  up  even  this  exercise  and 
made  the  grave  error  of  leaving  my  own  very  effi 
ciently  trained  muscular  machinery  to  almost  entire 
disuse.  Neither  for  man.  nor  engine  is  that  whole 
some. 

Meanwhile,  as  a  manager  of  men,  I  knew  myself 
to  be  a  success.  I  was  familiar  with  their  ways  and, 
having  been  of  them,  settled  all  our  troubles  with 
ease.  Their  illnesses  and  home  difficulties  never 
concerned  me.  I  was  becoming  merely  a  perfectly 
organized  mechanism.  My  friend,  Penryn,  saw  my 
indifference  with  obvious  regret  and  would  tell  me 
of  men  hurt  or  sick.  I  had  the  ready  answer  of 
money.  Had  I  gone  to  see  them,  I  should  not  have 
known  what  to  say. 

I  was  twenty  when  the  war  ended  and  in  the  new 
rivalry  of  many  mills  with  men  more  active  than  Eich- 
ard  West,  business  fell  off.  We  went  back  to  mak- 


38  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

ing  rails,  but  there  were  new  methods  with  costly 
changes  needed  and  Richard  West  was  by  primary 
organization  a  thrifty  saver  of  money.  To  spend 
was  hard.  Though  reluctant,  he  did  spend  out  of 
the  great  gains  of  the  war,  but  became  by  degrees 
to  our  surprise  irritable  and  more  and  more  talka 
tive — a  strange  thing  much  spoken  of  among  the 
men. 

The  new  machinery  was  for  me  simply  delightful 
and  as  Richard  West  took  less  and  less  interest  in 
the  works,  I  became  in  these  years  more  important, 
desiring  no  better  life  than  that  of  the  mills,  with 
books  of  many  kinds  and  my  private  workshop  be 
hind  Penryn's  house.  Harry  Heath  lectured  me  in 
vain.  Holidays!  My  ever-changing  work  was  holi 
day. 

One  day  he  said,  "John,  how  much  do  you  give 
Euphemia  ? ' ' 

I  felt  myself  flush.  I  had  now  two  thousand  dol 
lars  a  year  and  was  twenty-five  when  this  question 
disturbed  me.  ' '  I  have  given  some,  but  not  enough, '  ' 
I  said,  as  I  thanked  him,  and  at  once  doubled  my 
uncle's  scant  allowance. 

I  did  not  attempt  to  excuse  myself  to  Euphemia 
or  to  myself  for  having  failed  in  so  obvious  a  duty. 
In  fact,  I  was  absorbed  in  my  work,  as  only  the  in 
ventor  can  be,  self -full  rather  than  selfish.  The  sim 
ple  way  in  which  Euphemia  took  my  gift  and  the  evi 
dent  pleasure  it  gave  was  agreeable  to  me,  but  as  an 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  39 

example  did  me  no  good.     I  cared  nothing  for  money 
except  to  pay  for  books  and  models. 

Thus  the  years  ran  on.  One  day — I  was  now 
twenty-nine — my  Uncle  Dick  did  not  come  to  the 
mills.  I  had  gone  to  Pittsburg  about  a  large  con 
tract.  Euphemia  was  summoned  in  haste,  but  found 
him  dead.  She  declined  to  put  on  mourning,  but 
advised  me  to  do  so.  Her  epitaph  was  simple  and 
bitter.  "He  lived  a  heathen,  John,  and  he  died  a 
heathen.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  made  to  suffer  more 
than  he  deserves.  About  Robert — I  prefer  not  to  ex 
press  myself. "  I  said  it  was  a  highly  Christian  ver 
dict.  She  said  it  was  and  was  seriously  of  that  be 
lief. 


I  NEVER  was  attracted  by  Kichard  West  and  did 
not  love  him.  No  one  did.  I  had  wondered 
at  times  what  he  would  do  with  his  property  and 
what  Eobert  West  left  him.  Now  I  knew.  The  mill 
was  mine  and  a  large  property  well  invested.  Harry 
got  fifty  thousand  dollars.  No  one  else  was  remem 
bered.  I  was  entirely  competent  to  run  the  mills  and 
asked  no  better  lot  and  there  was  much  need  of 
changes  which  I  had  not  been  able  to  effect  while  my 
uncle  lived.  I  began  by  making  Mark  Penryn  man 
ager  and  between  us  in  a  few  months  we  put  every 
department  in  the  highest  state  of  efficiency. 

When  I  told  him  what  was  to  be  his  salary,  he 
began  to  express  his  gratitude  so  warmly  that  I  fled 
with  the  feeling  of  dislike  to  being  thanked  which 
I  had  always  had  and  have  still  to  this  day.  I  never 
could  satisfy  myself  as  to  what  is  the  origin  of  that 
which  is  with  me  a  very  real  feeling. 

I  knew  that  I  must  face  it  once  more  now  that, 
the  estate  being  fully  settled,  I  meant  to  provide 
fully  for  Euphemia.  I  found  her  in  the  little  parlor 
hemming  the  handkerchiefs  with  which  she  delighted 
to  provide  me.  I  was  in  haste  to  get  my  business 
done. 

40 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  41 

I  said,  ' '  Cousin,  I  have  put  in  trust  for  you  enough 
to  give  you  an  income  of  fully  two  thousand  dollars 
a  year." 

She  made  what  Heath  called  one  of  those  Eu- 
phemial  remarks  which  caused  people  to  say  she  was 
affected.  "John,"  she  said,  "that  is  interesting,  but 
what  shall  I  do  with  so  much  money  ? ' ' 

"My  dear  Cousin,  I  know  very  well  where  most  of 
it  will  go.  But  for  my  sake,  do  get  yourself  some 
decent  gowns.  You  dress  abominably.  Get  some 
finery.  You  have  a  figure  worth  velvets  and  a  little 
attention. ' ' 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  She  was  as  simply 
pleased  as  a  child.  It  was  one  of  her  most  attractive 
characteristics. 

"And  your  feet,  Euphemia;  you  know  you  are 
proud  of  them." 

"Oh,  John." 

I  laughed.  "And  here,"  I  said,  "are  the  title 
deeds  of  this  home." 

"Oh,  John,  and  I  have  not  thanked  you.  I  do. 
I  do." 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  returned  hastily.  "I  have  an  en 
gagement,"  and  so  fled  in  mild  fear  of  the  kiss  I  dis 
liked. 

As  I  had  been  to  my  machines,  so  now  I  became 
to  this  great  business,  a  happy  slave,  caring  little 
for  money,  but  vastly  enjoying  the  game  of  defeat 
ing  rivals  by  my  new  inventions  and  daring  expendi 
ture. 


42  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  fully  realized  that  the  complete  social  isolation 
I  liked  was  clearly  impossible  for  a  man  in  my  po 
sition.  At  last  I  took  ample  apartments  in  the  city 
and  joined  the  older  club  with  as  little  change  of 
life  as  it  was  in  my  power  to  avoid.  Some  social 
engagements  I  could  not  escape. 

I  left  my  bachelor  apartments  at  eight,  drove  out 
to  the  works,  lunched  with  the  Penryns,  spent  the 
day,  returned  to  dress  and  dine  at  the  club  and 
with  now  and  then  a  dinner  party,  occasional  visits, 
or  a  meal  with  Euphemia  and  a  visit  with  her  to  a 
theatre,  I  led,  save  for  my  cousin  and  Harry  Heath, 
long  since  a  busy  physician,  an  unfriended  life.  I 
kept  the  old  family  pew,  but  went  to  church  only 
on  the  Sunday  after  the  anniversary  of  my  father's 
death.  I  gave  away  money  to  charities,  though  never 
largely,  and  chiefly  because  Euphemia  suggested  it 
as  desirable  and  because  my  position  and  family  tra 
ditions  seemed  to  make  it  a  respectable  necessity.  I 
was  said  to  be  in  my  business  hard  and  without  in 
terest  in  the  lives  of  my  growing  number  of  workmen. 
This  attitude  of  mind  towards  the  men  I  employed 
is  one  apt  to  be  reached  soon  or  late  by  the  great 
employers  of  labor.  I  spared  neither  them  nor  my 
self.  To  me  they  were  like  machines.  They  were  to 
be  generously  paid,  and  then  set  aside  if  as  machines 
they  did  not  come  up  to  my  standard  of  efficiency. 
It  troubled  the  Penryns,  who  could  not  understand 
how  being  as  I  was  lavishly  kind  to  them  and  to 
Euphemia  I  could  be  so  indifferent  to  others. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  43 

If,  at  times,  I  had  doubts  as  to  the  entire  wisdom 
of  my  life  and  vague  thinkings  about  what  I  might 
do  on  that  some  day  or  other  with  which  the  never 
quite  satisfied  successful  American  toys  at  times,  I 
never  set  myself  seriously  to  the  task  of  planning 
any  other  life.  I  was  to  have  a  rude  awakening. 

Late  in  the  fall  of  my  thirty-fourth  year,  I  began 
to  feel  tired  at  the  close  of  the  day.  It  is  strictly 
true  that  I  had  never  felt  fatigue  of  mind  or  body 
which  was  not  lost  in  sleep.  Now  I  woke  up  unre- 
freshed.  I  had  the  abrupt  alarm  of  the  exception 
ally  strong  in  the  presence  of  the  threat  of  incapac 
ity.  The  slight  cough  I  had  long  ignored  became 
harassing.  At  times  I  was  chilly.  Except  once  or 
twice  as  a  child,  I  had  never  in  my  life  required  a 
physician,  but  now  my  day  of  need  had  come. 

I  have  heard  other  men  speak  of  their  dislike  to 
being  stripped  and  intimately  investigated  by  a  doc 
tor.  It  is  a  manifestation  of  modesty  you  may  please 
to  think  morbid.  There  appeared  to  me  to  be,  how 
ever,  something  inexplicably  disrespectful  in  extorting 
confession  from  organs  which  are  such  intensely  per 
sonal  possessions.  When,  later,  I  asked  my  cousin 
doctor  if  men  or  women  were  naturally  the  more 
modest  animal,  he  said  usually  men,  but  that  neither 
man  nor  any  other  animal  had  by  nature  what  we 
know  as  personal  modesty.  One  day  we  will  become 
transparent  to  that  terrible  physical  confessor,  the 
doctor.  Imagine  the  horror  of  having  your  bones 
indecently  exposed,  possibly  photographed.  These 


44  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

were  later  reflections.  I  had  a  prophetic  imagina 
tion. 

I  hated  to  ask  medical  advice,  but  at  last  I  re 
quested  Harry  Heath  to  look  me  over  and  went 
through  an  impertinently  close  examination  concern 
ing  my  life  and  habits.  In  the  pride  of  my  vigor  dis 
ease  had  always  seemed  to  me  an  insulting  reflection 
on  a  man's  capacity  to  take  care  of  himself  and  now, 
after  being  on  the  medical  rack,  I  was  told  frankly, 
as  many  times  before,  that  I  lived  an  unwholesome 
life,  and  with  kindly  hesitation,  for  Heath  loved  me 
well,  a  serious  bronchitis  and  that  I  had  possibly, 
of  this  he  was  not  at  all  sure,  a  small  deposit  of 
tubercle  at  the  apex  of  my  right  lung.  Then  I  was 
advised  to  do  this  and  that  and  to  go  to  the  Riviera  or 
Florida  or  perhaps  Minnesota,  with  other  disgusting 
orders  about  cod  liver  oil  and  the  disuse  of  tobacco. 

When  he  had  gone  I  sat  down  to  consider  what  his 
gravity  more  than  his  words  seemed  to  predict  as 
pretty  surely  the  slow  torment  of  useless  years  and 
a  final  death  warrant.  The  mere  anticipation  of  be 
coming  an  idle  man  filled  me  with  horror.  I  have 
heard  men  say  they  were  worked  to  death,  now  I 
was  to  be  idled  to  death.  Heath  says  that  the  indi 
viduality  of  the  man  is  always  a  part  of  the  symptom 
atology  of  sickness  and  is  a  partner  in  that  grim  firm, 
Disease  and  Company.  I  was  to  suffer  for  my  past 
habits,  because  I  was  myself. 

I  rose  and  walked  about  with  fierce  will  not  to 
be  beaten  and  a  sudden  realization  of  the  value  of  life. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  45 

I  was  to  escape  from  the  conditions  of  an  artificial 
existence  and  as  the  doctor  advised  live  an  out-door 
life,  but  he  added  not  too  remote  from  civilized  ways. 
Why  not,  I  thought,  rather  return  as  far  as  might 
be  to  such  a  life  as  my  infinitely  remote  ancestors  led 
and  away  from  society  and  its  limitations.  In  the 
club  library  that  memorable  night  I  read  by  a  happy 
chance  a  little  essay  called  "Camp  Cure."  My  two 
doctors  were  at  one  with  me,  or  as  near  in  opinion 
as  one  can  hope  doctors  to  be.  I  closed  the  small 
book  and  went  home  with  a  mind  clear  as  to  what  I 
should  do  and  would  do.  Harry  was  in  doubt  about 
my  novel  plan,  but  I  persisted.  The  scheme  was  well 
enough,  he  said,  if  I  were  careful,  but  I  would  be 
unbearably  bored  and  come  in  at  last  to  some  one  or 
other  of  his  plans  for  more  comfortable  invalid  re 
sorts.  I  was  resolute,  Harry  said  obstinate. 

Heath's  preference  for  me  of  some  "invalid  re 
sorts  "  was  the  final  drop  in  the  bitter  bucket  of  ad 
vice — a  repair  shop  for  a  worn-out  human  machine. 
I  think  doctors  should  be  more  carefully  discreet  in 
their  language — "invalid  resorts"  indeed.  I  im 
agine  that  Heath  knew  enough  of  the  sick  and  of  me 
to  humor  what  he  saw  I  would  undertake  with  hope 
rather  than  to  insist  on  that  which  he  knew  I  would 
simply  endure  if  companioned  by  despair.  He  did 
finally  all  he  could  to  help  me  with  detailed  lists  of 
what  I  might  require. 

All  this  was  late  in  the  autumn.  I  set  about  at 
once  to  see  some  of  my  rivals  in  business  and  by  the 


46  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

end  of  March,  although  far  worse  in  health,  I  had 
succeeded  in  forming  a  company  which  took  over  my 
mills  with  royalties  on  my  inventions,  and  upon  terms 
which  made  me  a  rich  and  independent  man. 

On  the  sixth  of  April  I  said  good-bye  to  Heath  and 
had  to  stand  a  mournful  interview  with  Euphemia, 
who  had  evidently  heard  from  Heath  what  her  af 
fection  emphasized  as  a  death  warrant. 

I  had  before  me  a  yet  more  painful  good-bye.  At 
midday,  coughing  and  out  of  breath,  I  climbed  the 
hill  to  Penryn  's  house,  where  for  years  I  had  lunched. 
Mrs.  Penryn  made  me  welcome  as  usual  and  before 
we  sat  down  Mark  Penryn  came  in.  We  talked  of 
the  works  and,  of  course,  of  their  sale,  which  was 
matter  for  much  comment  among  the  hands.  When 
the  meal  was  over  I  asked  Penryn  to  come  with  me 
to  the  work  shop  and  library  I  had  built  long  ago 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  garden. 

"No,"  I  said,  when  we  sat  down  and  he  offered 
his  tobacco  pouch.  "I  am  forbidden  to  smoke, 
Mark." 

"Is  that  so,  sir — and  you  are  going  away,  we  hear. 
My  wife  says  that  seems  just  to  be  the  end  of  things. 
Why,  you  were  a  lad  of  fifteen  when  I  first  gave  you 
some  advice.  That  's  nigh  onto  twenty  years  and 
now,  sir,  you  're  going  to  leave  us. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  am  a  sick  man  and  how  it  will  end  I  do 
not  know,  but  I  mean  to  make  a  fight  for  life/' 

"Mr.  Sherwood,  you  will  have  the  prayers  of  two 
old  people  and  you  will  be  missed  by  many. ' ' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  47 

"Hardly,  Mark." 

"Yes,  the  men  dread  this  change,  sir.  You  are 
always  just  and  a  judge  of  when  work  is  done  well 
or  slighted." 

That  did,  as  I  knew,  charitably  express  my  lim 
itations  of  interest  in  their  lives,  but  of  his  own  anx 
iety  as  to  his  future  he  said  not  a  word.  It  was  like 
the  man.  For  a  moment  he  sat  still,  regarding  me 
with  his  kindly  eyes,  more  moved  than  his  man  ways 
would  let  him  show.  I  too  remained  speechless  for 
a  minute,  thinking  of  how  little  I  had  done  to  de 
serve  the  manifest  grief  at  parting  which  my  old 
friendly  workman  was,  with  small  success,  trying 
to  suppress. 

"Mark,"  I  said,  "you  are  still  to  be  the  manager 
here  as  long  as  you  please  to  stay. ' ' 

"It  will  not  be  long,  sir.  It  's  one  thing  to  work 
with  you,  but — " 

"Oh,  there  will  be  no  new  difficulties." 

"Perhaps  not." 

"These  mills  owe  much  to  you  and  I  owe  you 
much,  Mark.  I  have  put  in  your  name  fifteen  thou 
sand  dollars  of  the  stock. ' ' 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sherwood,  I  could  not  ever  have  ex 
pected — " 

"Don't  thank  me,  Mark,"  I  said.  In  my  weak 
state  I  was  beginning  to  find  these  partings  too  great 
a  trial.  "You  are  to  have  this  workshop.  There  are 
two  or  three  inventions  worth  patenting.  They  are 
yours.  That  sidegear  wheel  is  one."  I  rose,  say- 


48  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

ing,  "I  have  some  Vvcrk  to  do  here,  papers  to  burn 
and  other  matters.'"7 

When  alone  I  sat  down  and  looked  about  me.  It 
was  the  most  bitter  hour  of  a  life  quite  without  sor 
row  or  disaster.  Here  were  many  models  of  machines 
in  use  or  half  perfected  or  never  to  be  bettered,  the 
wild,  materialized  dreams  of  an  inventor.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  mechanical  drawings,  some  as  old 
as  my  early  days  at  the  mill ;  others  newly  made  plans 
yet  to  be  worked  out. 

I  got  up  and  walked  about.  And  so  this  was  the 
end  for  me  of  ideas  which  were  to  have  changed  the 
iron  industry  of  a  continent.  What  a  man  may  say 
in  the  face  of  defeat  like  mine  is  hardly  to  be  guessed. 
What  I  did  say  was  simply,  "Damn!"  as  I  walked 
out  the  back  door,  of  no  mind  to  encounter  again 
the  two  good  people  whose  troubled  affection  had  so 
surprised  me.  I  heard,  as  I  moved  away,  the  clatter 
and  roar  of  busy  machines  and  the  strong  voice  of 
the  great  trip  hammers.  They  came  and  went  and 
were  lost.  No  music  had  been  as  pleasant  to  me  as 
had  been  this  grim  orchestra. 

I  had  read  or  heard  of  men  wrecked  in  life  or 
heartbroken  by  some  failure  to  keep  the  love  of 
woman.  I  knew  nothing  personally  of  such  ruined 
hopes.  I  laughed  bitterly  as  I  went  down  the  hill. 
These  seemed  small  griefs  compared  to  the  anguish  of 
mental  disappointment  a  cruel  fate  had  dealt  out  to  me. 
I  had  closed  one  chapter  in  the  book  of  life.  What 
would,  what  could  the  next  hold  on  its  unread  pages  ? 


VI 


I  OWNED  as  my  small  maternal  heritage,  a  thou 
sand  acres  on  the  north  coast  of  Maine,  long  cared 
for  by  my  uncles,  and  later  by  me.  It  yielded  noth 
ing  but  taxes.  Hither  I  sent  in  advance  my  capable 
black  servant,  Dodo,  with  full  orders  and  discretion 
as  to  what  I  had  thoughtfully  considered  needful. 
With  increase  of  doubt  on  the  part  of  my  doctor,  I 
left  home  to  find  Dodo  at  Belport,  Maine,  with  a 
sailboat  ready.  He  had  been  two  years  in  the  navy 
and  was  as  pleased  as  a  child  to  be  in  command  of  a 
boat. 

The  day  was  warm,  the  breeze  was  gentle,  the  sky 
without  a  cloud.  I  lay  in  the  catboat,  weary  in  body 
and  feeling  the  slight  depression  of  spirits  which  I 
have  always  felt  in  the  spring  and  fall  for  a  brief 
season.  Now  and  of  late  it  had  been  present  in  great 
intensity.  It  was  not  fear  which  caused  it  nor  yet 
the  dread  of  being  incapacitated.  I  had  read  that 
the  tubercular  are  said  not  to  feel  the  melancholy 
which  accompanies  some  other  maladies.  It  seemed 
to  me  therefore  a  good  symptom. 

I  smiled  to  think  what  a  little  thing  will  flatter 
hope  and  as  I  lay  at  rest  in  the  boat  determined  not 
to  indulge   my  moodiness.     At  home,   events  hustle 
4  49 


50  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

one's  moods,  imminent  duties  keep  a  man  from  think 
ing  morbidly,  but  here  would  be  perilous  leisure  for 
harmful  self-study.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the 
cave  ancestor  I  was  to  imitate  would  need  to  have 
some  distinct  physical  work  and  a  more  methodical 
existence  than  I  had  first  thought  of  as  desirable. 

As  I  let  my  mind  wander,  I  wondered  lazily  if 
there  be  a  par  of  human  happiness  with  normal  range 
above  and  below  which. excess  in  either  direction  must 
be  regarded  as  abnormal.  This  would  define  insanity 
as  a  matter  of  degree.  Perhaps  continuance  of  excess 
might  also  have  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  To 
laugh,  be  hilarious,  or  violently  angry  for  a  month 
would  be  serious.  Who  was  it  said  that  cheerfulness 
is  the  temperate  zone  of  life  ?  I  smiled  to  think  how 
even  the  best-governed  men  at  times  are  drifted  away 
on  the  derelict  slave-ship  of  a  mood  to  the  tropics 
or  the  arctic  zone.  It  is,  I  concluded,  the  duration  of 
our  moods  which  we  must  watch  with  care,  and 
as  I  found  later  there  are  rough  physical  resorts 
which  rout  a  mischievous  mood  when  reason  fails  to 
be  of  service. 

I  began  to  watch  Dodo's  handling  of  the  boat  and 
to  ask  quick  questions  about  it,  for  in  all  my  life 
I  had  never  been  in  a  sailboat.  Here  was  a  new 
and  interesting  machine.  When  Dodo  did  not  know 
why  it  was  called  a  catboat,  I  wrote  a  word  of  query 
and  this  was  the  first  use  of  the  notebook  which  has 
received  since  then  so  many  confidences,  so  many 
questions  earth  will  never  answer.  When  I  fell  into 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  51 

silence,  Dodo  would  have  me  take  the  tiller  and 
pleased  at  being  my  master  was  glad  in  his  obvious 
way  to  see  me  interested.  In  fact,  this  white-winged, 
sensitive  thing  won  my  heart  on  first  acquaintance 
and  was  soon  or  late  to  treat  me  to  wiles  and  wooings 
and  temptations  such  as  lured  Ulysses.  I  soon  came 
to  understand  why  a  boat  is  she. 

At  last  Dodo  exclaimed,  " There  's  the  tents!"  A 
deep,  nearly  land-locked  bay,  a  sound,  the  fishermen 
call  it,  lay  before  me.  Unbroken  forests,  chiefly  of 
tall  pines  and  red  oaks,  came  down  to  the  shore.  A 
mile  or  more  away  a  mountain  range  crowned  the 
horizon.  There  was  no  sign  of  human  habitation  ex 
cept  three  white  tents  set  on  a  granite  promontory 
some  fifty  feet  high  within  the  loop  of  the  bay. 

We  tacked  to  avoid  a  little  island  and  a  reef  of 
rocks  and  came  to  anchor  inside  of  it  where  lay  a 
canoe  on  the  shore.  I  had  a  sudden  realization  of 
ownership  and  the  delight  of  a  child  as  I  saw  beside 
my  cliff  home  a  bountiful  brook  which  came  forth  of 
the  dark  woodland  in  a  single  leap  of  some  twenty 
feet  and  fell  crushed  to  snowy  whiteness  on  the  beach. 
We  walked  up  the  rocks  and  before  me  were  the  three 
tents  set  on  the  verge  of  the  forest  with  no  tree  in 
front  of  them  except  a  single  aged  red  oak  now  re 
minding  me  in  its  young  foliage  that  I  had  come  into 
a  land  just  answering  to  the  call  of  spring. 

In  the  mid  space  was  my  day  room.  Aided  by 
carpenters  from  Belport,  Dodo  had  laid  floors  and 
dug  around  the  sides  of  the  tents  little  ditches  for 


62  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

drainage.  The  central  tent  was  large  and  square. 
There  were  camp  chairs,  a  lounge,  book  shelves,  tables 
roughly  built  and  racks  for  the  guns  and  rods  I  was 
for  the  first  time  in  life  to  learn  to  use.  The  night 
tent  was  smaller  and  simply  furnished.  That  to  left 
was  for  meals.  Out  of  it  at  the  back,  a  covered  can 
vas  way  led  to  a  small  log-built  kitchen  and  a  tent 
for  Dodo. 

A  word  of  my  man  Friday  is  here  in  place.  He 
was  a  middle-aged  Maryland  ex-slave  who  had  been 
to  sea  in  the  navy,  served  as  a  young  teamster  in  the 
war  and  by  good  fortune  come  to  be  something  for 
me  between  servant  and  friend.  Perfect  cook,  ready 
handed  and  dog-like  in  his  affection,  I  could  have  had 
no  companion,  for  he  was  that  at  need,  better  suited 
to  my  wants. 

When  once  I  asked  him  where  he  got  his  odd  sur 
name,  he  replied  with  a  grin,  "My  father,  he  opened 
the  Bible  and  took  for  luck  the  first  name  he  saw. 
Nobody  else  got  a  name  like  that."  He  had  a  sense 
of  ownership  of  the  unusual  which  was  clearly  a 
source  of  pride.  I  verified  his  authority.  What  he 
lacked  was  singular.  He  could  neither  read  nor 
write  and  declined  my  early  efforts  to  have  him 
taught.  I  came  to  the  belief  that  he  regarded  his 
ignorance  as  a  distinction. 

He  wound  with  care  a  noisy  Yankee  clock  which 
clucking  endlessly  seemed  to  me  to  be  calling  the  min 
utes  like  an  old  hen.  What  it  meant  for  him  I  never 
knew  for  he  could  not  tell  what  o'clock  it  was  except 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  53 

by  the  sun  shadow  in  the  doorway  of  the  kitchen.  If 
in  gray  weather  this  failed  him,  he  would  ask  me  near 
the  meal  hours  to  look  at  my  watch  to  see  if  his  clock 
was  right,  all  of  which  I  gladly  humored. 

His  memory  was  to  me  a  constant  wonder,  for  he 
knew  no  arithmetic  and  yet  kept  in  his  head  any  and 
all  details  of  what  he  bought  and  paid,  being  a  sharp 
bargainer. 

There  was  in  the  man,  however,  as  in  all  of  us, 
something  of  the  primitive  barbarian.  When  later  I 
was  on  the  water  or  otherwise  absent  and  his  work 
done,  he  whistled  to  Mike,  the  bull  terrier  named  for 
the  imagined  dog  of  my  youth,  and  disappeared  into 
the  wood,  finding  his  way  with  the  sure  instinct  of  an 
animal.  What  he  did,  he  and  the  dog,  I  never  knew, 
and  this  side  of  Dodo  was  and  remained  mysterious. 
He  at  least  had  an  enviable  absence  of  moods  and 
was  at  all  hours  a  temperately  joyous  creature  with 
pride  in  his  capacity  as  a  cook  and  liking  a  word 
of  praise.  He  was  reserved  and  somewhat  suspicious 
of  strangers,  expressing  what  he  called  his  notions 
to  me  with  confiding  frankness  but  with  a  quite 
feminine  incapacity  to  give  reasons  for  opinions  which 
were  hardly  to  be  called  judgments  but  were  usually 
correct. 

I  soon  learned  in  camp  what  I  could  not  have 
learned  in  a  city,  that  he  was  a  creature  in  whom  the 
failing  instincts  of  the  primitive  man  were  still  pre 
served  and  the  senses  amazingly  acute.  He  never 
would,  perhaps  never  could,  tell  me  why  he  was  so 


54  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

surely  sensitive  to  coming  changes  in  the  weather. 
Physically  he  was  a  tall,  strong  man  of  athletic  build, 
wearing  a  constant  smile  which  showed  his  large 
white  teeth.  He  ate  like  an  animal,  when  he  was 
hungry,  observing  no  regularity  as  to  the  time  of  his 
meals. 

The  life  I  proposed  was  one  which  in  those  days 
seemed  so  unpromising  a  resort  that,  as  I  have  said, 
I  had  not  been  without  medical  and  other  prophecies 
of  disaster.  Nevertheless,  I  still  held  to  my  confi 
dence  in  my  plan  of  battle  with  disease.  After  the 
first  two  weeks  of  increasing  cough  and  high  evening 
temperature,  a  quite  abrupt  change  for  the  better 
gave  me  the  tonic  of  hope  and  I  wisely  put  away  my 
thermometer. 

My  life  had  been  made  up  from  my  youth  of 
laborious  days.  Incessant  work  and  the  attendant 
responsibilities  had  become,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case, 
necessary  to  the  happiness  of  an  existence  in  which 
constant  success  had  rewarded  labor  so  that  at  times 
I  was  bored  by  the  enforced  idleness  of  the  Sunday 
quiet.  I  had  been  always  able  to  control  events  and 
caring  far  less  for  money  than  for  the  game  of  con 
tested  supremacy  in  business,  I  had  found  little  to 
disturb  my  belief  in  the  permanence  of  things. 

The  invasion  of  what  seemed  likely  to  be  a  mortal 
malady  shocked  me  into  the  conviction  that  something 
in  my  plan  of  life  must  have  been  wrong.  My  cousin, 
the  doctor,  left  me,  as  concerned  this  question,  not  the 
least  chance  for  self-excuse.  Such  an  illness  seemed 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  55 

to  me  to  be  a  mockery  of  the  intelligence  with  which 
a  man  should  be  able  to  guard  his  health  and  now  I 
was  to  suffer  for  the  unwisdom  of  years. 

I  confess  to  some  dismay  as  I  looked  forward  dur 
ing  my  early  life  in  camp  to  being  materially  unpro 
ductive  and  to  devoting  the  machinery  of  a  trained 
mind  to  filling  the  long  days  of  threatened  emptiness 
which  lay  before  me.  Here  were  no  new  problems  to 
interest  me.  The  camp  was  disappointingly  complete. 
There  was  nothing  for  my  mechanical  talent  to  per 
fect.  I  had  only  to  arrange  for  my  house-keeping 
supplies  and  then  fall  upon  some  routine  of  whole 
some  life.  At  first  it  seemed  to  me  rather  singular 
that  I,  who  had  rejoiced  in  battle  with  rivals  and  in 
the  difficulties  of  old  machines  or  new  unworkable 
processes  should  have  been  so  troubled  at  the  prospect 
before  me.  I  think  this  was  because  for  two  weeks 
I  was  daily  losing  ground  and  was  losing  interest  as 
I  lost  health.  Then,  as  I  have  said,  the  wholesome 
life  began  to  be  felt  in  many  ways. 

I  had  looked  to  my  present  plan  as  merely  a  dis 
agreeable  necessity.  That  it  was  to  be  for  me  the 
revolutionary  source  of  new  pleasures  and  was  to  en 
large  my  horizons  more  and  more  I  learned  later 
and  only  by  degrees.  Least  of  all  did  I  anticipate 
that  such  an  entire  change  in  bodily  habits  could 
affect  a  man's  character  and  his  relation  to  his  fel 
lows.  I  was  in  fact  in  the  hands  and  under  the  dis 
cipline  of  a  schoolmaster  with  power  to  evolve  what 
my  previous  life  had  masked  or  discouraged. 


56  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

The  irritability  new  to  me,  and  caused  by  disease 
and  its  effects  on  my  competencies,  began  to  disap 
pear  with  my  recovery  of  health  and  vigor.  I  ob 
served  with  curious  pleasure,  the  fact  that  I  was 
beginning  to  have  brief  moments  of  simple  enjoyment 
in  things  to  which  before  I  had  been  carelessly  in 
different.  The  imaginative  capacities  of  childhood, 
long  diverted  into  the  service  of  inventing  mechanical 
devices,  were  again  awakening  for  simpler  forms  of 
use  and  creating  new  joys. 

The  sense  of  being  born  again  into  health  is  as 
if  the  world  thus  won  again  were  also  renewed. 
I  have  not  heard  anyone  who  had  become  well  after 
nearly  fatal  illness  mention  the  unexpected  happiness 
of  convalescence.  I  myself  find  it  hard  to  speak 
without  exaggeration  of  the  distinct  pleasure  given 
by  loss  of  pain  and  all  forms  of  distress,  by  daily  in 
crease  of  strength  and  desire  to  use  it,  by  freshened 
sensory  appreciations  and  a  contented  languor  of 
mind  indisposing  to  serious  mental  pursuits.  All 
nature  daily  wore  for  me  novel  aspects  as  if  not  only 
I  myself  but  the  world  grown  sick  were  freshly  con 
valescent. 

The  habitual  reversion  to  protective  observation  of 
nature  such  as  my  cave  ancestors  must  have  found 
needful  did  at  times  surprise  me.  My  man  Dodo  had 
it  always.  Thus  I  soon  began  to  discover  interest  in 
the  changes  of  the  weather,  a  matter  which  in  the 
city  concerned  me  of  late  only  as  exacting  care  in 
regard  to  clothing.  Nature  became  to  me  a  comrade 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  57 

worthy  of  increase  of  intimacy,  repaying  attention 
with  gifts  small  or  large. 

As  the  days  ran  on  and  my  inner  self  ceased  to 
exact  care  of  symptoms  and  to  intrude  consciousness 
of  the  abnormal,  I  began  to  take  satisfaction  in  filling 
a  notebook  with  sketches  in  words.  Except  in  me 
chanical  drawing,  I  have  no  skill  with  the  pencil,  but 
I  learned  so  to  set  scenery  in  words  as  to  answer  in 
place  of  photographs,  which  I  do  not  like. 


VII 


A  WEEK  later,  my  domestic  affairs  having  been 
ordered  to  my  temporary  satisfaction,  there 
came  one  afternoon  in  a  sailboat  from  Belport  my 
agent,  Jones,  whom  until  then  I  had  never  seen.  I 
had  written  of  my  new  plan  of  life  and  wanted  to 
ask  him  certain  questions,  for  which  I  learned  the 
need  at  Belport.  Now,  however,  I  met  him  with  dis 
satisfaction  because  of  this  intrusion  of  mere  business 
on  my  new  and  solitary  life. 

As  we  sat  down  in  front  of  my  tent,  he  declined 
whiskey  and  a  pipe  to  which  my  gain  in  health  had 
tempted  me  to  return.  He  was  silently  regarding  my 
outfit.  Then  he  guessed  I  would  n  't  bide  long ;  it  was 
too  lonesome.  I  thought  otherwise  and  heard  vague 
talk  about  taxes  which  concerned  me  in  no  wise. 
There  were  three  squatters  on  my  land  and  these 
voluntary  tenants,  he  said,  were  using  my  forests 
pretty  freely.  There  was  good  landing  and  it  would 
pay  right  well  to  cut  the  big  pines. 

VCut  my  pines?"  I  said.  "Not  a  tree,  Mr.  Jones, 
not  a  stick.  They  are  my  friends  and  the  company 
you  would  like  to  organize  may  go  to  a  place  where 
fuel  is  not  needed. ' ' 

58 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  59 

Evidently  he  thought  me  somewhat  eccentric  and 
I  began  to  re-open  the  only  subject  in  which  we  had 
a  common  interest,  my  tenants.  He  became  at  once 
voluble  and  talked  of  the  rights  of  property.  One 
man  had  been  there  on  the  main  road  to  Belport 
many  years;  that  was  Peter  Christian.  I  'd  got  to 
deal  with  him  and  he  ought  to  pay  higher  rent. 

I  asked,  "Does  he  raise  chickens?" 

This  he  considered,  as  I  thought,  more  reasonable 
and  as  having  applicative  value.  "Well,  I  guessed 
you  'd  find  out  he  could  pay  more  rent.  He  don't 
pay  none,  or  not  regular." 

I  said  I  would  take  my  rental  in  kind,  on  which 
he  was  of  opinion  that  there  would  be  an  immediate 
rise  in  the  market  value  of  chickens. 

Then  he  looked  about  him  as  if  in  thought  and 
illuminated  his  lean,  sharp  face  with  a  smile  in  honor 
of  a  victorious  capture  of  a  fresh  idea. 

"Well?"  I  queried. 

"It  ain't  only  this  waste  of  lumber,  but  to  see 
them  pines  and  right  to  hand  that  there  idle  water 
fall  that  's  never  done  any  work  since  the  Lord  set 
it  a-going."  This  incursion  of  an  alien  bit  of  imag 
ination  into  a  business  view  of  nature  is  not  very 
rare  in  the  rural  New  England  mind,  sentimental 
enough,  but  shy  of  emotional  expression.  It  was  at 
that  time  odd  to  me. 

My  reply  was  quick  and  almost  angry.  "You  may 
have  heard  of  the  lilies  of  the  field." 

He  grinned  with  unexpected  comprehension  as  I 


60  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

added,  "That  brook  is  going  to  be  idle  and  loaf  all 
my  life  and  do  no  work  and  run  no  mill  wheel." 

"Guess  He  as  set  it  going  meant  it  to  be  of  use. 
Now  the  lilies  was  n  't  made  to  be  of  any  use  except 
to  look  pretty."  He  nodded  his  head  to  emphasize 
his  consciousness  of  having  settled  that  question  and 
me. 

"Well,  yes,"  I  laughed,  vastly  enjoying  the  talk; 
"yes,  but  if  you  think  the  only  use  of  the  lilies  was 
to  look  pretty,  you  had  better  go  home  and  read 
your  Bible.  They  waited  a  long  time  to  be  consid 
ered.  You  might  ask  Mrs.  Jones." 

"I  will.     I  will.     I  don't  see  your  p'int." 

"I  think  you  will  see  it.  This  brook  is  for  me  a 
big  water  lily,  Mr.  'Jones.  It  shall  toil  not  nor  spin 
anybody's  wheel.  Let  it  alone.  Perhaps  God  set  it 
here  to  be  the  friend  of  a  tired,  sick  man.  Let  my 
babbling  friend  alone." 

He  grinned  maliciously.  "It  's  been  an  awful 
waste  waiting  for  you  these  years." 

"That  may  be,  but  think  of  those  lilies.  They 
waited  long." 

"I  don't  see  it." 

"Perhaps  you  never  may.  What  of  my  other  ten 
ants?" 

"There  's  that  Hapworth.  He  's  a  sort  of  no  ac 
count  wastrel.  He  doesn't  work  and  he  lives  alone 
and  buys  what  he  wants.  He  does  pay  rent,  but  what 
with  the  road  tax  and  one  thing  and  another  it  is 
just  swallowed  up." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  61 

"Then  he  has  some  means." 

"Must  have.  He  says  he  can  leave  the  land,  but 
won't  come  and  see  you." 

This  tenant  interested  me.  Why  need  he  come? 
"What  of  the  other  man?  You  mentioned  another. 
I  think  you  spoke  of  three?" 

"Oh,  Bob  Cairns.  Well,  Mr.  Sherwood,  there  was 
an  ugly  story  about  Cairns  and  he  just  left  Belport 
years  ago,  because  folks  wouldn't  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him.  He  wasn't  real  bad.  I  don't  know 
the  right  and  wrong  of  it." 

I  was  curious,  but  seeing  that  Jones  was  disinclined 
to  commit  himself  I  let  it  drop. 

"You  might  have  him  come  and  again  you 
mightn't.  He  don't  pay  much  rent  and  being  a 
right  misf ortunate  man  I  guessed  you  would  n  't  wish 
to  have  me  push  him. ' ' 

This  seemed  unlike  Jones,  but  I  said,  "Of  course 
not.  Well,  what  else?" 

"He  's  a  quiet  man,  'bout  your  age,  a  kind  of  too 
to  himself  man.  He  is  either  working  like  mad  or 
loafing  round.  Hapworth  's  been  teaching  him  some. 
He  's  great  friends  with  the  Christians.  They  do 
say  he  and  Susan  Christian  's  keeping  company.  I 
don't  believe  it.  If  someone  wants  help  in  harvest 
or  gets  sick,  he  '11  drop  anything  to  go  and  tend  to 
them.  He  won't  come  and  see  you.  Keeps  to  him 
self.  He  pays  rent  in  wood,  off  and  on.  It  about 
covers  the  taxes.  He  '11  sit  and  look  at  the  sea  and 
bide  till  Dagett's  boat  comes  to  shore  with  fish. 


62  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

They  're  a  queer  lot.  Now  I  'm  done  business,  I'll 
sample  that  whiskey." 

I  called  for  Dodo,  who  came  with  the  liquor.  Mr. 
Jones  took  it  with  appreciative  slowness  and  became 
taciturn  with  now  and  then  a  glance  of  regretful  ap 
preciation  at  the  tall,  moveless  pines,  which  seemed 
to  me  like  proud,  indifferent  gentlemen,  unthoughtful 
of  the  guillotine  of  the  axe.  Then  this  incarnation 
of  business  greed  stood  up  and  looked  to  the  left  at 
my  friend,  the  brook,  with  its  many  voices  of  joy, 
praise  or  prayer,  which  I  had  learned  already  to  love 
and  interpret.  I  too  rose. 

"It  's  an  awful  waste,"  he  said  persistently. 
"You  might  think  it  over.  It  's  jest  pine  trash." 

"Perhaps,"  I  returned,  smiling,  "you  and  I  are 
wastes.  There  may  be  in  us  values  we  have  never 
yet  put  to  use." 

"Maybe  that  's  so,"  he  returned,  with  more  ap 
preciation  than  I  could  have  expected,  "but  if  I  was 
you—" 

Here  Dodo  appeared.  "There  's  a  thunderstorm 
coming,  sir.  The  gentleman  might  like  to  know  it." 
Except  for  a  low-lying  bank  of  clouds  on  the  south 
west  horizon  I  saw  no  sign  of  a  change  in  the  seren 
ity  of  a  pleasant  April  day,  for  the  season  warm 
and  with  a  mild  norther  blowing. 

' '  How  do  you  know  ?  "  I  said  to  Dodo. 

"It  's  coming,  sir."  He  had  no  other  comment  to 
make,  but  his  certainty  disturbed  my  agent,  who  made 
haste  to  his  boat,  set  sail  and  was  soon  far  out  in 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  63 

the  bay,  Dodo  remarking,  "He  '11  have  to  land  some 
where,  sir,  or  he  '11  never  see  Belport  again.  He  's 
got  a  mean  face,  that  man."  This  was  like  Dodo. 

"Nonsense!"  I  said,  but  he  had. 

When  he  left  me,  I  went  down  the  slope  from  my 
tent  to  the  cliff  and  sat  some  fifty  feet  above  the 
sea  thinking  of  these  strange  tenants  and  what  fate 
had  brought  them  to  this  wild-wood  shelter.  What 
did  it  matter  to  me?  My  own  cause  for  this  flight 
from  the  familiar  was  simply  the  desire  to  live  and 
to  live  in  health.  Every  day  was  now  giving  me 
joyous  intimations  of  the  success  of  my  experiment. 
I  felt  that  certain  generous  intentions  in  regard  to 
my  queer  wood  neighbors  were  wholesome  additions 
to  the  physical  joy  of  mere  living  when  everything 
about  me  was  raining  sweet  influences  of  which  I 
was  conscious  as  never  elsewhere  or  hitherto. 

Behind  me  the  squares  of  my  tent  home  stood  white 
against  the  dark  wood  spaces  where,  free  of  under 
brush,  were  only  the  motionless  pines  of  a  pathless 
wood.  Along  the  shore  beyond  my  brook  the  waves 
lifted  and  let  fall  the  green  things  of  the  great  sea 
garden.  There  was  some  suggestion  of  a  lazing  mood 
in  the  way  the  slow  water  rolled  up  the  shore  and 
loitered  seaward.  I  was  to  become,  as  never  before, 
familiar  with  the  ways  of  ocean  and  to  find  how  easy 
it  was  and  how  natural  to  see  in  it  something  far 
more  alive  than  anything  else  which  nature  pre 
sented.  But  for  this  one  must  be  living  alone  with 
the  sea  and  have  some  sense  of  comradeship  such 


64  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

as  is  not  easy  to  inland  folk  nor  to  all  nations.  Just 
now  I  lay  still  on  the  rock  edge,  noting  that  the  after 
noon  light  was  lessening  and  the  water  over  the  shal 
lows  of  delicate  purples.  The  low-lying  clouds  to 
southwest  soon  to  fulfill  Dodo's  prediction  were  vast, 
wind-tumbled  masses.  A  quick  little  shiver  breezed 
over  the  quiet  ocean  which  had  just  now  the  stillness 
of  a  mobile  thing  expectant  of  change.  I  was  learn 
ing  to  recognize  the  ways  of  this  other  larger  friend. 
How  much  of  my  interest  and  joy  was  what  anyone 
would  have  felt,  how  much  of  it  the  wholesome  con 
tribution  of  health  creating  something  new  to  me, 
strange  to  me,  mysteriously  delightful,  breeding 
meditative  moods.  On  leaving  I  had  said  laughing, 
to  reassure  my  much-valued  Roman  Catholic  cousin, 
Euphemia,  that  I  was  about  to  make  a  Retreat.  She 
said  gravely,  "Oh,  'John,  if  you  really  would!"  I 
must  write  to  her. 

I  felt  the  chill  of  the  herald  breeze  and  had  a 
solemnizing  realization  of  terror  and  majesty  in  the 
death-laden  possibilities  of  the  darkening  clouds  un 
der  which  the  sea  of  a  sudden  lost  its  look  of  trans 
lucent  blue  brightness  and  took  on  a  dull  leaden  gray. 

Then  I  was  startled  to  hear  behind  me  a  grandly 
mellow  roll  of  thunder  and  turning  saw  that  another 
storm  was  coming  from  the  northwest.  A  moment 
later  a  succession  of  jagged  lightning  lances  flashed 
before  and  back  of  me  with  crash  of  incessant  thun 
der.  I  have  seen  this  meeting  of  two  storms  but 
once  since.  The  southeast  array  passed  far  above 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  65 

the  lower  level  of  the  norther.  The  wind  among  the 
pines  moaned,  shrilled,  and  in  a  minute  the  sea  was 
in  an  uproar  and  the  rain  falling  in  torrents.  I 
fled,  laughing,  to  the  shelter  of  my  tent.  A  blind 
ing  flash  lighted  the  dark  wood  spaces  and  turned 
to  the  gold  of  a  moment  every  falling  raindrop. 
The  thunder  roll  was  as  to  time  almost  as  one  with  the 
lightning. 

My  dog,  Mike,  had  no  enjoyment  of  this  terrible 
orchestra.  He  set  up  a  long  howl  and  I  ran  into  the 
kitchen,  hearing  Dodo  groaning.  I  found  my  man 
under  the  mattress.  Here  were  two  animals  in  ex 
tremity  of  fear.  It  is  vain  to  argue  with  emotion  so 
profound.  Mike  followed  me  back  to  my  tent  and 
while  I  watched  the  two  armies  of  cloudland  the  dog 
at  each  reverberant  thunder  peal  howled  piteously, 
crouching  close  to  me  where  I  lay  in  the  tent.  I 
at  least  should  have  been  the  most  alarmed  by  this 
vast  display  of  electric  energy,  for  when  yet  a  lad 
at  the  iron  works  in  a  field  under  a  willow,  I  was 
struck  by  lightning  and  was  insensible  for  some 
minutes.  The  man  beside  me  was  paralysed.  As  I 
had  never  heard  of  a  person  twice  struck  the  chances 
of  escape  were  in  my  favor.  The  Romans  would  have 
regarded  me  as  one  forever  sacred,  the  chosen  of  the 
gods.  Next  day  I  told  Dodo  of  my  escape  when  a 
youth.  He  concluded  that  it  was  safer  to  keep  away 
from  me  in  a  thunderstorm.  I  understood  his  logic 
and  he  was  indeed  quite  serious. 

I  had  been  much  confined  in  the  city  even  in  sum- 

5 


66  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

mer  when  a  lad  and  during  these  later  years,  deep 
in  the  cares  of  a  great  and  successful  factory,  had 
desired  no  holiday.  The  vast  dramas  of  nature  went 
on  with  small  attention  from  me.  A  thunderstorm 
was  merely  an  inconvenience  or  agreeable  as  laying 
the  dust  of  the  town.  Sunrise,  the  spring  of  day,  I 
had  not  seen  in  years  with  any  feeling  but  a  desire 
to  sleep  longer,  nor  had  the  roof-bounded  oblongs  of 
cloud  or  sky  in  the  city  possessed  for  me  the  least 
interest.  I  may  be  rather  overstating  it,  but  in  fact 
I  was  never  free  from  such  occupative  care  as  leaves 
no  true  leisure  and  is  good  as  a  permanent  thing, 
neither  for  body  nor  mind. 

Now  I  was  a  toilless  man,  acquiring  abrupt  addi 
tions  of  interest  in  this  new  world.  I  had  regret 
when  this  splendid  spectacle  of  the  two  storms  was 
at  an  end.  I  felt  that  I  should  have  attended  more 
carefully  to  what  passed  and  as  nature  is  an  artist 
who  never  duplicates  her  works,  I  might  not  see 
again  so  rendered  the  like  of  this  changing  drama 
of  the  April  day.  I  had  for  the  first  time  in  this 
storm  a  personal  concern  I  could  not  explain  and 
which  I  discovered  to  be  hard  to  set  in  words. 

The  two  storms,  alive  with  incessant  violet  light, 
their  thunderous  challenge,  the  sea  lashed  by 
obliquely  driven  gray  columns  of  rain  and  what 
seemed  like  a  personal  fury  of  wind,  getting  noises 
out  of  sea,  shore,  rocks,  trees,  and  the  hum  of  the 
rain,  yes,  of  these  I  had  awe,  but  I  had  also  a  sense 
of  elation,  of  glad  uplift  of  soul,  pride  in  that  I  had 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  67 

no  fear  and  stranger  still  the  feeling  that  I  was  a  part 
of  it  all.  I  am  on  the  verge  of  saying  something  fool 
ish  in  my  effort  to  extort  from  words  what  it  is  not 
in  their  power  to  state.  Let  me  call  it  a  mood  and 
leave  it.  The  condition  of  exaltation  faded  as  the 
sun  broke  out  over  a  tossing  sea. 

At  breakfast  the  next  day  Dodo  showed  some  un 
easiness  in  regard  to  the  material  matter  of  food  sup 
plies.  I  set  it  aside  to  be  thought  of  only  by  Dodo. 
I  told  him  we  would  settle  the  fish  and  lobster  ques 
tion  with  Dagett,  the  fisherman ;  in  fact,  he  had  done 
so.  I  said  I  meant  to  take  my  rent  in  chickens  and 
eggs  from  the  Christians  and  hoped  too  to  be  quit 
of  condensed  milk.  Then  Dodo  said,  "They  won't 
do  it,  sir.  They  think  maybe  you  '11  pay." 

"Have  you  been  to  call  on  these  confident  folks?" 

"Kind  of." 

"What  do  you  mean?     Did  they  talk  to  you?" 

"No,  sir.  I  just  wandered  round  about  at  dusk. 
I  saw  his  chickens.  I  got  some  of  your  eggs,  too. 
I  saw  the  man  and  his  woman."  I  concluded  not  to 
press  my  inquiry  as  to  how  the  eggs  changed  owners. 

11  He  '11  be  here  to-day." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Oh,  I  was  around  in  the  wood  and  I  saw  him 
pointing  and  she  laughed  and  she  pointed  too.  They 
was  talking  about  you  and  Jones. ' ' 

"Well,  we  shall  see,  Dodo,  and  afterwards  we  will 
visit  these  others.  I  want  things  settled." 

My  tenant  did  not  come  that  day  nor  the  next  and 


68  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

meanwhile  I  was  childishly  impatient  to  finish  with 
business.  I  recognised  it  as  an  unusual  state  of  mind. 
There  was  much  to  make  a  man  impatient  in  a  fac 
tory  and  its  work,  where  methods  were  continually 
undergoing  change  and  the  men  who  as  a  majority 
dislike  all  new  ways  were  forced  at  times  to  re-learn 
their  trade.  Yet  one  of  my  old  managers  said  I  was 
a  moral  for  patience.  I  liked  the  phrase.  The  mech 
anism  of  the  practical  mind-workings  of  the  American 
mechanic  interested  me  only  as  did  our  mill  machinery 
and  whenever  I  was  interested,  I  became  in  pro 
portion  patient.  Now  without  due  reason  and  be 
cause  matters  of  the  utmost  simplicity  did  not  get 
adjusted  to  my  desire,  I  wanted  to  go  at  once  and 
settle  all  these  squatters  in  a  day. 

When  I  proposed  to  Dodo  to  go  with  me,  he  had 
always  something  he  must  do.  I  could  not  go  alone, 
for  after  twice  losing  myself  in  my  thousand  acres 
of  wood  and  once  discovering  a  marsh  with  perilous 
depths,  I  declined  to  go  again  until  Dodo  had  blazed 
a  trail.  Even  then  and  far  later,  I  was  apt  to  lose 
my  way  because  amid  the  delightful  distractions  of 
the  spring  foliage  I  lost  at  times  the  needed  on- 
guard  attentiveness,  and  once  off  the  trail,  no  baa 
lamb  was  more  helpless  than  I.  For  Dodo  I  was  a 
great  personage  and  so  entire  was  his  respect  that 
he  could  not  understand  why  I  was  not  able  to  do 
what  he  did  so  easily.  I  heard  him  later  explaining 
it  to  Mr.  Cairns  with  the  confident  fidelity  of  his 
race,  "Any  dog  could  find  his  way,  but  Mr.  Sher- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  69 

wood  have  too  big  things  to  think  about.  If  he 
wanted,  he  'd  go  like  the  bees  fly." 

No  wanting  would  have  taken  with  me  the  place  of 
the  faculty  of  orientation.  I  presume  that  to  mean 
originally  knowledge  of  where  the  east  lies.  To  know 
that  and  then  that  the  west  lay  behind  one  should  make 
the  rest  easy — theoretically.  If  to  possess  the  power  to 
find  your  way  be  an  instinct  for  which  the  rising 
race  has  substituted  intelligent  attention,  the  child 
should  still  have  the  gift  as  being  more  the  animal, 
but  who  so  easily  lost?  These  little  problems  stuck 
to  me  like  burr  grass  to  my  trousers.  At  home  they 
were  out  of  my  sphere  of  thought  as  needless  because 
I  dwelt  only  on  what  concerned  the  day's  work. 
Here  they  became  vital  questions.  Let  me  call  it  the 
compass  sense.  Unused  to  reason  on  such  matters, 
I  found  it  confusing  and  kept  asking  myself  ques 
tions  I  could  not  answer.  To  trust  reason  at  the 
helm  is  for  me  at  least  unworkable  here  in  the  ocean 
of  a  wood.  I  am  unconscious  that  I  have  any  other 
guide.  I  wonder  if  the  woman  has  preserved  more 
of  the  instinctive  capacities  than  the  man.  My  doc 
tor  tells  me  that  if  you  label  or  number  for  identi 
fication  a  dozen  babies  a  week  or  so  from  birth,  the 
mothers  can  not  pick  out  their  own.  Could  a  bitch 
or  cat  find  pup  or  kitten  under  a  like  test  and  if 
so  would  it  be  all  by  instinct,  or  by  use  of  capacity 
for  detective  observation? 

In  this  wilderness,  to  find  your  way  or  not  be 
able  to  do  so  may  be  a  question  of  life  or  death. 


70  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Some  practical  lessons  led  me  to  think  over  this  ques 
tion.  I  spent  an  evening  in  thought  and  thought 
record  over  such  questions,  the  origin  being  a  cer 
tain  annoying  wonder  because  of  this  absurd  inca 
pacity  to  do  by  use  of  intelligently  guided  care  what 
Dodo  did  with  the  easy  use  of  some  mystery  of 
guidance.  I  went  to  bed  and  for  the  first  time  since 
I  took  to  outdoor  sleep,  slept  ill  and  dreamed  in 
distinct  horrors.  I  coughed  hard  on  awaking  at 
dawn  although  I  had  almost  lost  that  reminding 
symptom.  I  wrote  in  my  notes  some  conclusive 
self-advice  and  went  out  to  watch  the  sunrise.  The 
sun  rose  to  left  of  me  over  a  low  headland  and  the 
lateral  light  on  the  sea  was  gloriously  new.  I  stripped 
and  ran  down  to  the  beach  and,  as  was  now  my  habit, 
since  I  became  better,  took  a  startling  cold  dip  and 
then  a  douche  of  fresh  water  where  my  brook  fell  on 
the  beach.  I  ran  back  refreshed  to  sleep  again  as  a 
child  sleeps,  until  called  over  and  over  by  Dodo. 

I  was  busy  next  day  writing  some  orders  to  enable 
Dodo  to  get  the  still-needed  canned  food  from  Bel- 
port  as  well  as  my  letters,  when  I  was  aware  of  a 
round-faced,  rubicund  man  of  about  fifty,  at  the  tent 
door.  Although  very  fat  he  moved  with  the  alert 
ness  of  some  over-stout  men.  I  was  sure  it  was  my 
tenant  Christian  and  promised  myself  an  occasion 
of  humorous  interest.  Coming  from  a  region  where 
the  ownership  of  land  was  long  settled  and  the  squat 
ter  was  unknown,  I  was  curious  to  see  what  my  land 
pirate  could  have  to  say  for  himself.  Dodo,  with  his 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  71 

unreadable  dark  mask  of  a  face,  set  out  two  camp 
chairs  in  front  of  the  tent  under  the  great  red  oak, 
the  only  tree  between  my  tents  and  the  sea. 

Mr.  Christian  said,  as  I  rose  to  meet  him,  * '  Thought 
I  'd  just  step  over  and  see  how  you  are  fixed. ' ' 

"Glad  to  see  you.     Sit  down." 

"With  the  anxious  care  of  the  overly  heavy,  my 
guest  confided  his  weight  to  the  light  camp  chair 
which  creakingly  complained  of  an  unusual  responsi 
bility.  Dodo  left  us,  but  I  heard  now  and  then  from 
the  space  behind  my  tent  his  ill-restrained  low  laugh, 
for  his  hearing  was  as  keen  as  his  other  senses  and 
the  racial  humor  of  his  people  was  unfailingly  ready. 

1  'Glad  to  see  you,"  I  said,  and  waited. 

"Had  an  awful  poor  time  last  year,  up  my  way." 

"Indeed.     How  much  land  have  you  cleared?" 

"'Bout  twenty  acres,  no  account  land." 

"Good  for  potatoes?" 

"Potatoes!     'Bout  as  big  as  walnuts." 

"What  about  chickens?" 

The  remonstrant  camp  chair  creaked  uneasily. 
"Oh,  a  few,  what  with  the  vermin,  foxes  and  pip 
they  're  no  good." 

"You  have  now,"  I  said,  "some  thirty-seven." 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"No  matter.  Do  you  cut  my  wood  for  sale  in 
Belport?"  This  was  my  first  allusion  to  ownership. 

"Guess  a  man  's  got  to  live  and  bile  things  and 
keep  warm.  Maybe  I  do  cut  some." 

"On  another  man's  land?" 


72  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"No  one  's  asked  me  for  no  rent  but  wood  till 
just  lately."  I  thought  this  quite  likely,  my  agent 
having  been,  I  suspected,  somewhat  vitalised  by  my 
unexpected  coming.  There  was  more  to  learn  later 
about  Jones. 

"Well,  you  squat  on  land  not  your  own,  clear 
twenty  acres,  cut  and  sell  another  man's  wood,  sell 
potatoes  and  chickens.  When  did  you  first  settle 
here?" 

"  'Bout  twenty-one  years  this  spring." 

"Twenty,  I  think.  And  what  now  do  you  propose 
to  do?" 

He  set  a  huge  hand  on  each  knee  and  bent  forward. 
"Will  you  sell?  Seems  I  a 'most  earned  that  land. 
Would  you  sell?" 

"No,  I  will  not  sell." 

"Well,  'bout  rent?" 

"I  will  not  rent  it." 

"Mean  it?  Won't  rent  and  won't  sell?"  His 
face  reddened,  his  hands  shut  and  opened.  His  emo 
tion  gave  better  evidence  of  the  value  to  him  of 
this  little  farm  than  his  verbal  statements.  The 
man's  distress  troubled  me.  He  wiped  his  forehead 
with  his  sleeve,  looked  about  him  like  a  resourcelessly 
trapped  animal  and  stood  up  with,  "If  you  're  of  a 
mind  to  profit  by  twenty  years  of  a  man's  work  and 
won't  sell  and  won't  let,  I  suppose  the  old  woman 
and  me  has  got  to  go.  The  law  's  on  your  side.  I 
never  thought  to  stay  when  I  first  come.  Guess  I  11 
go." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  73 

"No,  wait  a  little.  Mr.  Christian,  the  law  is  not 
on  my  side,  not  the  law  of  decent  kindness.  If  you 
will  supply  me  till  November  with  chickens,  eggs  and 
milk,  I  will  give  you  your  twenty  acres  and  ten 
more  of  woodland  on  the  main  road,  if  you  like  that 
best." 

"You  ain't  foolin'  me?" 

' '  I  ?  No  indeed. ' '  His  look  of  puzzled  incredulity 
was  plainly  to  be  read.  I  repeated  my  terms. 

"There  ain't  nothin'  back  of  it?" 

"How  can  there  be?" 

"It  's  sort  of  overcomin'.  Guess  I  '11  have  to  talk 
it  over  with  my  old  woman."  He  neither  accepted 
nor  rejected  nor  even  thanked  me,  but  was  clearly 
-suspicious  of  what  was  so  unheard-of  an  offer. 

"Wait,"  I  said,  and  going  into  my  tent  wrote 
and  signed  an  agreement  in  the  form  of  a  distinct 
promise.  Then  I  called  my  man  and  said,  "Here  is 
your  name.  Put  a  cross  here  between  Dodo  and 
Key."  I  read  it  to  the  pair.  Dodo  grinned,  but 
said  no  word.  The  other  man  read  it  and  put  it  in 
his  pocket.  "Have  to  ask  the  old  woman.  Good 
bye.  Let  you  know." 

A  few  moments  later  he  reappeared.  "Well?"  I 
queried. 

"I  was  wondering  how  many  chickens  you  'd 
want." 

"About  five  hundred,"  I  cried,  laughing.  "Let 
me  hear  from  you  to-morrow.  Good-bye, ' '  and  I  went 
into  the  tent. 


74  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Why  did  I  do  it,  I  asked  myself.  At  home  I  was 
regarded,  and  I  knew  it,  as  an  exact  man  in  my 
dealings,  and  among  my  hands  as  a  man  stern  and 
just  in  my  ways,  but  without  more  interest  in  the 
hbme  lives  of  my  working  people  than  had  many 
other  worried  employers  of  labor.  Various  influences 
were  now  acting  upon  me,  the  largest  being  a  sense 
of  increasing  pleasure  in  life  and  a  quite  novel  de 
sire  to  have  the  world  about  me  share  in  my  content 
ment.  The  cost  was  of  no  moment  to  me.  I  was 
buying  peace  of  mind.  At  home  I  liked  a  sharp 
business  battle,  here  I  would  have  escaped  it  at  far 
greater  cost. 

Next  day  I  was  lying  supremely  lazy  on  the  cliff 
watching  the  gulls  with  a  good  glass  when  Dodo  ap 
peared.  "Here  's  Mrs.  Christian  come  to  see  you, 
sir." 

He  was  followed  by  a  thin  little  woman  of  per 
haps  forty  years.  She  was  bareheaded,  with  an  im 
mense  and  as  I  thought  inconvenient  amount  of  very 
black  hair  of  uncommon  silkiness.  I  never  could  re 
member  or  describe  a  woman 's  dress.  I  had,  how 
ever,  an  impression  of  great  neatness  and  of  a  face 
which  was  pleasingly  unusual,  for  below  the  black 
hair  the  eyes  were  darkly  but  distinctly  blue.  The 
full  face  was  too  thin.  The  side  face  might  have 
served  for  the  profile  on  a  Greek  coin.  She  was  smil 
ing  as  she  set  at  my  feet  a  basket  of  eggs  and  said, 
"I  ran  quick,  Mr.  Sherwood,  for  fear  you  would 
change  your  mind." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  75 

Mike  came  and  put  his  nose  up  to  meet  the  touch  of 
her  hand  as  she  said,  "Lord,  but  he  's  got  eyes  of 
gold." 

This  was  pretty  clearly  the  thinking  partner. 
"Take  a  seat,  Mrs.  Christian.  Your  husband 
seemed  to  be  in  some  doubt  about  my  offer.  He  ap 
peared  to  me  to  think  I  had  something  to  my  own 
advantage  behind  it.  Why  he  was  suspicious  I  really 
fail  to  understand.  Perhaps  you  do. ' ' 

"Well,  it  's  just  this  way.  Since  my  husband  was 
a  lad,  he  has  never  had  anyone  to  do  anything  for 
him  without  they  was  expecting  to  swap  favors. 
He  's  a  real  good  man,  Mr.  Sherwood,  but  he  's  right 
simple  about  bargains  and  he  gets  cheated  every  time. 
So  when  he  couldn't  of  a  sudden  explain  to  himself 
why  a  stranger  should  just  drop  down  and  say,  'Give 
me  a  few  fowls  and  I  will  give  you  thirty  acres 
of  land/  he  began  to  think  about  it  until  he  got 
puzzled  and  suspicious  like.  The  fact  is,  the  folks 
hereabouts  are  all  that  way." 

"I  see,"  I  returned. 

"And  it  does  seem  to  you  right  unusual,  now 
doesn't  it?  I  hope  it  don't  vex  you  right  much." 

She  was  obviously  anxious  and  I  liked  her  defense 
of  her  husband.  "Yes,"  I  replied.  "It  is,  I  sup 
pose,  somewhat  unusual,  but  perhaps  I  too  am  un 
usual." 

"Now,"  she  exclaimed  with  animation,  "That  's 
just  about  what  I  told  Peter.  Guessed  you  had  some 
good  reason." 


76  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  liked  her.  "I  will  tell  you  why  I  did  it  if  you 
care  to  hear." 

"Now,  I  'd  like  right  well  to  know." 

"Come  into  the  tent,"  I  said. 

She  was  unembarrassed,  her  voice  low  and  pleas 
ant,  an  example  of  the  accident  of  refinement,  which 
is  seen  now  and  then  in  the  American  woman  of  her 
limited  opportunities. 

"Take  the  eggs,  Dodo,  and  get  tea  and  biscuits. 
The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Christian,  why  I  gave  you  the  land 
I  am  not  quite  sure.  I  have  not  been  much  of  a 
giver. ' ' 

"Jones  he  said  you  'd  been  more  of  a  getter." 

"Did  he?"  I  said,  vastly  amused. 

"Did  Peter  ask  how  many  chickens  you  might 
want?" 

"He  did." 

"And  eggs?"  she  cried. 

"No." 

She  became  of  a  sudden  quiet.  "He  has  had  a 
hard  life,  my  man,"  and  now  her  eyes  filled  and 
she  took  my  hand.  "I  just  don't  know  how  to  thank 
you." 

"I  am  thanked,"  I  said.  "I  was.  I  am.  Let 
us  drop  it.  The  land  is  yours.  I  will  see  to  the 
deed.  A  cup  of  tea,  one  lump  or  two  ? ' ' 

"Two,  please."  She  looked  about  her,  curious. 
"Books!  Now  perhaps  you  might  trust  me  with  one 
or  two  some  day  if  the  eggs  are  good." 

"Take  what  you   want.     Take   them   now."     She 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  77 

rose  quickly  and  began  with  frank  interest  to  look 
over  book  after  book.  Then  she  turned  to  me,  "Tell 
me  what  to  take.  I  shouldn't  know  to  choose.'* 

My  choice  was  experimental.  I  gave  her  "Gran- 
ford,"  and  hesitated.  "Would  you  like  a  book  of 
verse  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  know.  Try  me.  When  I  was  at  school  I 
did  read  some  poetry." 

I  gave  her  "Childe  Harold."  What  would  she 
make  of  it? 

"That  will  do,  sir.  Lord,  it  's  raining  riches. 
Now  I  must  go.  My  basket,  please.  You  might  tell 
your  man  to  mind  me  to  give  him  an  apple  pie  when 
he  comes  to  fetch  the  chickens.  And  come  yourself. 
You  will  want  to  see  the  big  spring.  Folks  often 
come  to  see  it.  I  don't  mind  me  of  the  Indian  name, 
but  it  means  just  something  like  Earth  Laugh.  You 
see,  sir,  it  kind  of  chuckles  like  it  was  glad  to  get  into 
the  sun.  Come  and  see  it.  Good-bye." 


VIII 

I  HAD  now  been  nearly  a  month  of  varied  weather 
in  my  camp  and  with  rare  exceptions  had  been 
steadily  gaining.  To  my  surprise  east  winds  no 
longer  affected  me  and  my  spirits  rising  gave  me 
with  new  strength,  desire  to  use  my  strength. 

The  day  after  Mrs.  Christian's  visit  Dodo  arranged 
a  cold  meal  for  my  luncheon  and  sailed  away  in  the 
catboat  to  be  gone  over  night,  having  errands  in 
Belport.  I  was  rather  pleased  to  be  left  to  my  own 
resources.  Next  day  after  breakfast,  I  determined  to 
try  the  woods  once  more  and,  not  to  be  lost  this  time, 
made  up  my  mind  to  trust  the  guidance  of  my  friend, 
the  brook,  which  I  knew  must  lead  me  near  to  the 
home  of  Christian,  and  how  stupid  not  to  have 
thought  of  this  before.  I  took  a  pocket  compass  and 
my  stick  and  set  off  up  the  stream. 

I  felt  the  joyous  call  of  a  cool,  sunlit  day  as  I  wan 
dered  inland  by  the  water  side  where  the  .great 
pines,  spruce  and  tamarack  rose  about  my  path,  mo 
tionless  green  tents.  At  my  feet  the  brook  slid  over 
shallows  or  leaped  little  moss-clad  rock  ledges,  noisily 
.boisterous,  saying  things  or  luring  me  to  find  echoes 
in  my  mind.  Now  it  was,  " Cheer  up"  and  now, 
"Yes,  sir,"  or  something  as  childish.  Then  there 

78 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  79 

was  a  glowing,  sun-lighted  pool  where  the  merry, 
mischievous  thing  seemed  to  pause,  silent  and  mo 
tionless  as  if  in  thought,  and  then  was  away  again, 
dancing  water,  sun  braided,  tossing  the  light  about. 
I  wondered  how  the  long  lances  of  light  got  through 
the  thick  greenery  overhead  and  of  a  sudden  too 
how  I,  of  all  men,  should  have  come  to  read  joy  and 
life  into  the  simplicity  of  these  wilful  waters. 

I  lighted  my  after-breakfast  pipe  and  sat  down  to 
watch  the  alert  nimbleness  of  the  darting  trout.  I 
had  learned  to  use  tobacco  when  a  man  of  twenty. 
Penryn  used  to  say,  "Be  a  master  of  the  pipe  and 
not  its  slave.  I  stop  of  a  Sunday  to  see  who  ?s  boss, 
me  or  the  pipe."  I  gave  it  up  when  I  fell  sick  with 
the  full  mastery  I  have  always  had  in  regard  to 
habits.  Now  to  want  the  pipe  and  to  find  it  pleas 
ant  was  one  sign  of  return  to  health. 

By  and  by,  my  pipe  being  out,  I  was  aware  of  an 
odour  I  had  not  smelt  before.  It  was  another  inti 
mation  of  the  keenness  of  sense  I  had  acquired  in 
the  changes  brought  by  convalescence.  The  scent 
came  and  was  gone  and  came  again  with  the  low- 
breathed  sweetness  of  some  appealing  thing  of  life 
seeking  to  be  noticed.  Looking  about  me,  I  saw  a 
slender  vine  trailing  over  the  decayed  wood  beside  me. 
There  were  small  leaflets,  and  set  between  them  in 
pairs,  delicate,  thread-like  stems  crowned  each  with 
a  tiny  flower,  no  violet  as  sweet,  fairy  vases  scatter 
ing  fragrance  like  tiny  censers  swung  by  the  wander 
ing  breezes.  I  smiled  at  the  play  of  intrusive  fancy 


80  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

so  alien  to  the  ways  of  a  hard  business  man.  It  was 
as  if  the  baby  imagination  had  been  left  on  my  door 
step,  ' '  I  am  yours, ' '  pinned  to  the  sleeve.  ' '  Take  me 
in  and  feed  me.'7  If  I  were  to  talk  this  way  to  my 
broker  between  deals  at  the  Club?  I  broke  into  a 
roar  of  laughter  and  in  the  reminding  cathedral-like 
stillness  of  the  solemn  green  arches  of  the  pines,  was 
silent,  aware  again  of  the  faint  fragrance  near  to 
me.  I  had  found,  as  Mrs.  Christian  told  me  later,  the 
twin  flower,  some  weeks  ahead  of  its  due  season.  My 
book  told  me  later  it  was  the  Linnea  borealis,  found 
far  to  the  north,  a  brave  little  settler,  once  dear  to  the 
botanist  whose  name  it  bears.  I  left  it  unplucked  and 
went  on  my  way,  watchful  of  things  about  me  with  the 
silence-born  mood  of  the  forest  where  sound  of  bird 
or  other  living  creature  was  rarely  heard  and  only 
the  varied  voices  of  the  brook  busily  hurrying  to  the 
great  mother  sea. 

I  soon  came  to  where  a  lesser  brook  joined  the  main 
stream  and  saw  its  darker  marsh-tinted  water  meet 
and  mingle  with  the  purity  of  my  guiding  stream. 
Which  to  follow  I  consulted  my  compass  and  confi 
dently  took  to  the  bank  of  the  newly-found  brook. 
Here  were  spruce,  birch,  maple,  young  leafed  as  yet, 
brambles,  and  the  poplar  best  known  as  the  balsam 
tree.  The  leaves  were  dancing  in  an  air  so  light  that 
it  did  not  stir  the  other  foliage.  It  was  a  very  little 
thing,  but  pleasant  to  learn  why  this  leafage  was  so 
sensitive.  Plucking  a  leaf  I  saw  that  where  the  long 
leaf  stem  was  joined  to  the  branch  and  to  the  leaf, 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  81 

it  was  twice  as  thick  as  the  part  between  and  there 
fore  responsively  mobile  to  the  breeze.  These  leaves 
deranged  by  greater  winds  lie  loosely  sideways  when 
wet  with  a  look  of  dejection  and,  as  I  saw  later,  have 
rough  ribbed  under  faces  which  are  then  silvery  in 
the  day  and  at  sunset  golden. 

The  guiding  water  was  checked  or  turned  by  dead 
trees  and  wriggled  in  and  out  under  and  over  rocks, 
not  having  at  all  an  easy  journey.  I  went  on  con 
fidingly  and  then,  here  was  no  spring,  but  my  old 
enemy,  the  "ma'sh,"  out  of  which  oozed  in  abject 
illegitimate  birth  that  untrustworthy  brook. 

Now  for  the  compass.  There  plainly  was  the  north. 
The  instinct  of  the  needle  I  might  trust  and  there 
must  be  the  west  and  my  course.  I  skirted  the 
morass,  not  without  disaster  and  then,  alas,  the  north 
had  got  dislocated  and  I  not  located  at  all.  I  have 
deep  respect  for  the  man  who  can  usefully  employ 
the  compass  in  a  tangled  wood.  At  sea  it  is  simple 
enough,  but  with  a  log  here  and  a  big  cedar  there 
and  bits  of  absorbent  marsh  and  nets  of  briars  how 
can  a  man  go  straight?  I  would  have  returned  de 
feated  to  my  familiar  stream  but  that  the  compass 
had  lost  me. 

Then  I  did  what  perhaps  was  best.  I  set  my  eye 
on  a  far  tree  and  when  I  reached  it  on  another  in 
line  with  this.  At  the  close  of  an  hour  I  saw  open 
sky  ahead  of  me  and  to  my  great  relief  came  out  on 
a  clearing  in  which  was  set  a  small  log  cabin. 

I  sat  down  and  consulted  my  pipe  as  to  whether 


82  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  had  not  made  a  reassuring  discovery  in  wood  craft. 
I  made  the  further  and  more  certain  discovery  that 
I  was  tired  and  hungry  as  I  had  not  been  for  a  year. 
This  at  least  was  pure  instinct.  The  other  was  a  tri 
umph  of  intellect.  When  I  related  my  method  to 
Dodo,  he  said  it  would  not  work  on  the  berry  flats 
north  of  Christian's,  because  there  were  no  trees;  but 
the  discoverer  is  always  thus  treated  and  Dodo  was 
critical  and  inclined  to  defend  the  quality  in  which  he 
was  my  superior. 

"Walking  toward  the  cabin,  I  saw  no  sign  of  life. 
Black  tree  stumps,  half  burned,  stood  amid  the  po 
tato  sprouts  perhaps  an  acre  or  more.  There  were 
dutchman  pipe  vines  and  Virginia  creeper  on  the 
house  and  a  well-kept  garden  of  flowers  before  the 
door.  For  these  the  spring  was  caring.  In  the  win 
dows  were  old  tomato  cans  holding  for  pleasant  re 
lief  amid  the  sombreness  of  the  brown  cabin  logs  and 
the  signs  of  a  meagre  life,  the  rich  red  of  geranium 
flowers. 

I  knocked  at  the  door  which  was  ajar  and  again 
louder.  There  was  no  reply.  I  was  curious  as  to 
whom  the  cabin  belonged,  but  all  my  social  train 
ing  being  against  intrusion  where  the  owner  was 
absent,  I  sat  down  on  the  squatter's  doorstep  and 
waited. 

Then  there  was  a  brown  flash  and  a  hare  darted 
under  the  log  house  and  hot  foot  after  him  my  dog 
Mike.  I  had  left  him  tied  up  because  of  a  lame  leg 
and  swollen  nose  reported  by  Dodo  as  the  results  of  a 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  83 

too  curious  investigation  of  a  nest  of  yellow  jackets, 
resentful  of  impertinent  curiosity.  Mike  gave  up  the 
hare  and  came  to  my  feet.  Having  wagged  his  tail 
in  glad  salute,  he  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep.  Here 
was  one  consolation.  Mike  was  better  than  a  com 
pass  and  would  know  the  way  home,  so  I  waited  and 
walked  to  the  highway  near  by  and  then  sat  down 
again  on  the  step,  wondering  if  this  were  Hap  worth's 
home  or  Cairn's. 

About  three  o'clock,  as  I  stood  looking  toward  the 
road,  a  man  came  around  the  house,  for  the  door  as 
I  had  seen  to  my  surprise  did  not  face  the  road. 
He  was  dressed  neatly  in  well-fitting  gray,  with  a 
gray  cap  to  match  and  altho  his  boots  were  dusty 
they  had  been  blacked.  The  clean-shaven  face  was 
brown  and  thin,  the  features  refined,  the  teeth  white, 
the  expression  grave. 

"Good  afternoon,"  I  said.  "May  I  ask  if  you  are 
Mr.  Cairns?" 

"No,  my  name  is  Hapworth." 

"My  tenant,  I  believe.     I  am  Mr.  Sherwood." 

"Your  tenant  or  not,  sir,  as  you  please,"  he  said, 
very  quietly.  "I  pay  what  rent  that  unpleasant 
agent  of  yours  demands.  I  can  go  or  stay  as  you 
like." 

As  I  had  been  quite  neutral  in  my  statement,  I 
knew  no  reason  why  he  should  have  made  me  this 
surly  return,  but  the  intonations  were  those  of  a  man 
of  my  own  class. 

I  ignored   his  manner  and  said,   "You  like   Mr. 


84  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Jones  no  better  than  I  do.  I  am  taking  or  shall 
take  no  rent  from  the  three  or  four  who  have  made 
homes  on  my  land,  and  who  I  fear  have  been  cheated 
by  my  agent. ' ' 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  could  hardly  con 
sent  to  that.  It  is  as  well  that  you  have  learned 
what  manner  of  man  you  employ. ' ' 

' '  I  have,  but  we  will  discuss  our  own  business  later. 
I  am  not  here  to  make  money. ' ' 

"Yes.  I  heard  that  you  have  given  Mr.  Christian 
his  land.  There  are  no  better  folk.  For  myself  I 
saw  no  reason  why  I  should  go  to  see  you.  I  did 
not  mean  to  call  on  you.  That  man  Jones  is  not  a 
fortunate  representative. ' ' 

' '  I  agree  with  you.  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should 
visit  me.  You  will  excuse  me  just  now.  I  got  lost 
and,  if  I  may  have  a  slice  of  bread  and,  if  you  have 
it,  milk,  I  shall  go  on  my  way." 

"Then  this  was  not  a  deliberate  intrusion  on  the 
privacy  of  a  stranger. ' ' 

"No,"  I  said  sweetly,  '"a  lamentable  accident." 

"Indeed."  He  seemed  satisfied.  "Ah,  wait  a 
moment."  He  left  me  standing  at  his  door  and  did 
not  ask  me  to  come  in.  He  returned  presently, 
brought  out  a  chair  and  gave  me  bread,  cold  ham 
and  milk.  He  stood  quite  silent  while  I  satisfied  my 
hunger. 

I  was  sure  that  my  agent,  aroused  into  vigilance, 
had  been  of  a  sudden  harsh  with  my  queer  tenants 
after  years  of  careless  indulgence  or  worse.  This 


JOHN"  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  85 

and  something  interesting  about  Hapworth  made  me 
very  desirous  of  atoning  to  him  for  any  rascality 
on  the  part  of  Jones,  concerning  whom  I  had  gath 
ered  in  Belport  on  my  way  some  informing  par 
ticulars.  Thus  minded,  I  thanked  Mr.  Hapworth  for 
his  hospitality  and  made  clear  that  when  agreeable 
to  him  a  return  visit  would  be  most  welcome. 

I  asked  if  he  would  set  me  on  the  brookside  where 
the  water  would  be  my  guide.  He  went  with  me  to 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  walking  ahead  of  me,  not  speak 
ing  at  all  until  in  the  wood,  when  he  said,  "Here  is 
a  plain  blaze.  You  need  only  to  follow  it.  Good 
bye,"  and  I,  rather  surprised,  "You  must  be  sure  to 
come  soon  and  return  my  visit." 

He  paused  and  said  with  curious  slowness,  "I  will 
endeavor  to  do  so." 

"Oh,  I  shall  expect  you.  When  may  I  look  for 
you?  I  usually  sail  before  noon." 

"No  one  sets  a  time  here.  Time  hardly  survives 
the  abundance  of  it  in  this  wild  country.  I  mean," 
and  he  smiled,  "punctualities  are  as  useless  here  as  in 
post-mortem  countries. ' ' 

"How  do  you  know  they  will  be  absent  there?" 

"I  do  not,"  he  said.     "I  will  try  to  come." 

He  had  half  accepted  my  invitation,  but  why 
should  he  need  to  try?  Why  apparently  did  a  thing 
as  simple  require  effort?  To  have  guided  me  to  the 
brook  was  so  small  a  courtesy  that  the  man's  per 
sonal  refinement  made  the  disinclination  to  go  with 
me  the  more  strange. 


86  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  called  Mike,  but  he  had  left  me,  and  I  saw  him 
racing  to  and  fro  far  away,  declining  to  obey  my 
whistle.  Keeping  an  eye  on  the  blazed  trees,  I  came 
on  my  friendly  brook.  I  tried  to  dismiss  from  mind 
my  not  wholly  agreeable  visit  and  to  take  up  again 
my  new  game  of  study  of  the  frolic  thing  and  its 
charming  varieties.  It  was  not  to  be  done.  In  fact, 
I  observed  very  often  as  time  ran  on  that  there  were 
fortune-freighted  hours  when  my  relation  to  nature 
seemed  to  be  easy  and  others  when,  as  now,  no  such 
nearness  was  attainable.  More  and  more  I  felt  it 
then  and  still  feel  it  to  be  a  natural  relation,  however 
mysterious.  I  was  to  learn  in  a  graver  hour  that  the 
sense  of  nearness  to  the  great  artist  maker  was  at 
times  such  as  to  fill  me  with  awe  and  at  others  such 
as  to  seem  despairingly  absent. 

Just  now  the  man  I  had  left  was  in  possession  of 
my  thoughts.  Then  suddenly  there  came  to  me  out  of 
the  tantalizing,  unsystematic  index,  memory,  a  vague 
remembrance  that  I  had  at  some  past  time  seen  him. 
Where  and  when  I  could  not  recall.  I  kept  on  mak 
ing  the  vain  effort  we  all  know.  At  last,  as  I  came 
out  on  the  cliff,  I  gave  it  up  with  the  belief  that 
before  long  I  should  get  the  clue,  which  is  of  course 
the  wiser  method  of  dealing  with  a  lost  memory. 
You  advertise  for  it  in  the  mind  and  forget  it  until 
some  honest  minute  turns  up  with  the  lost  bit  of 
mental  property. 

It  was  six  when  I  got  home,  rather  tired,  and 
found  Dodo  with  his  kindly  way  of  personally  in- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  87 

terested  service  not  at  all  pleased  with  me,  betrayed 
as  I  was  by  swamp  mud  and  bramble  scratches.  I 
had  to  confess  and  was  duly  lectured.  But  if  I  had 
played  truant,  Mike  was  in  worse  case  and  in  un 
pleasantly  plain  disgrace. 

" That  dog,  sir—" 

"No  need  to  explain.  Lift  up  the  tent  flies  and 
let  the  air  through — confound  the  dog.  I  will  dine 
on  the  rock.  Where  is  Mike  now?" 

"Under  the  waterfall.     Hear  him." 

I  did  indeed.  About  once  a  fortnight,  Mike  in 
dulged  in  the  strange  luxury  of  killing  a  skunk.  I 
saw  him  on  one  occasion  as  he  let  it  fall  dead.  He 
rubbed  his  nose  on  the  soil,  panted,  whined  in  ex 
treme  distress  and  walked  feebly  home  to  take  the 
sure  whipping,  bath  and  anointing  and  to  be  tied  up 
for  two  days  on  low  diet  far  away  in  the  wood. 
The  stench  was  obviously  a  cause  of  suffering,  but 
neither  that  nor  the  later  punishment  and  Dodo's 
rather  severe  use  of  the  stick  did  any  good.  Luckily 
he  kept  away  from  the  tents  when  he  came  home 
from  these  hunts.  The  skunk  odor  and  the  conse 
quences  left  my  joyous  comrade,  Mike,  very  meek 
for  some  days  and  indisposed  for  Dodo's  society,  but 
skunk  killing  was  to  the  end  a  too  fascinating  busi 
ness.  He  must  have  "snatched  a  fearful  joy." 

April  was  over  and  the  days  of  May  were  bring 
ing  warmth,  but  always  with  refreshing  coolness  at 
night.  There  was  a  wonderful  stillness  in  the  twi 
light  as  I  sat  on  the  rock.  The  sea  was  one  vast  quiet- 


88  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

ness  with  faint  whisperings  on  the  beach  and  murmur 
ous  fall  of  my  brook  on  the  strand.  The  sunset  glow 
behind  the  low  northwest  headland  of  the  bay  and  the 
side  falling  sunshine  of  the  fading  day  made  the  calm 
ocean  a  plain  of  orange  light  with  shifting  purples 
over  the  shoals  near  shore;  and  now  it  was  darker, 
the  white  wing  flash  of  gulls  gone  home  to  some  far 
loneliness  of  island  rocks ;  and  now  it  was  night. 

For  the  first  time  since  I  came  hither  an  uplift 
ing  sense  of  thankfulness  grew  upon  me.  I  was  self- 
assured  that  I  would  get  well,  almost  that  I  was 
well,  and  how  sweet  was  this  stillness  and  how  much 
of  such  fertility  of  happiness  my  former  life  had 
ignorantly  missed.  I  had  dreaded  the  solitude,  and 
the  entire  absence  of  laborious  days.  Pure  idleness 
I  could  not  have  endured.  I  had  yet  to  learn  that  the 
best  rest  for  a  tired  mind  is  the  employment  of 
hitherto  unemployed  mental  faculties.  These  I  was 
rediscovering  and  setting  to  work.  I  was  to  go  far 
on  this  voyage  of  discovery,  back  to  days  of  a  return 
in  nobler  forms  of  the  unfettered  use  of  my  imag 
ination. 

At  last  I  got  up,  the  sea  a  black  gulf  far  below 
me,  the  stars  coming  out  one  by  one  like  the  many 
shining  things  which  the  darkness  of  my  disease  had 
brought  me.  I  smiled  as  I  went  up  to  my  tent,  re 
flecting  on  this  bit  of  fancy  so  far  from  anything  my 
life  at  home  could  have  given  me. 

For  the  second  time  it  occurred  to  me  to  write 
the  letters  which  I  knew  at  least  two  or  three  per- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  89 

sons  would  expect.     Yes,  the  doctor,  my  cousin.     I 
wrote : 

My  dear  Harry: — I  am  so  incredibly  better  that  I  am 
tempted  to  say  I  am  well,  except  that  you  would  not  be 
lieve  me.  That  pack  of  devils  you  call  symptoms  have 
folded  their  tents  like  the  Arabs  and  gone  to  seek  other 
spoil  and  other  victims.  I  have  not  the  ghost  of  a  symp 
tom  left.  Sad,  isn't  it1? — a  defeat  of  all  predictions.  I 
presume  that  little  tubercular  swarm  of  fiends  has  gone  to 
play  the  devil  elsewhere,  or  is  still  there,  somehow  quaran 
tined. 

This  is  my  life — up  at  dawn,  a  dip  in  the  cold  sea,  56° 
Fahrenheit,  and  a  fresh  water  douche  in  a  brook  I  own; 
back  to  bed,  sleep  till  awakened  for  breakfast  a  hungry 
man.  Then  a  sail  or  a  canoe  paddle  if  the  sea  has  no 
symptoms  and  is  quiet;  lunch,  a  walk  in  the  wood  where 
having  been  lost  three  times  I  am  learning  how  to  find  my 
way.  I  am  being  devoluted  and  revoluted  and  acquiring 
primitive  arts  of  self-preservation  much  needed,  since,  ex 
cept  for  Dodo,  I  was  for  a  time  as  helpless  in  the  woods 
as  a  turtle  on  his  back  and  a  turtle  too  with  symptoms. 

I  am  reminded  that  you  and  Euphemia  promised  me  a 
visit.  Come  soon.  I  set  no  date  on  this  letter  for  I  do 
not  know  what  day  of  the  month  it  is,  nor  if  it  be  Mon 
day  or  Tuesday.  Pardon  my  delay  in  writing.  I  left  my 
social  conscience  at  home. 

Yours, 

JOHN  SHERWOOD. 

Camp  Retreat. 

I  put  off  writing  to  my  one  woman  friend,  my 
cousin  Euphemia,  because  of  the  mail  Dodo  had 


90  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

brought.  There  were  some  seven  letters  pleading  for 
"causes."  I  loathe  the  very  name  of  this  form  of 
charitable  plunder.  The  other  letters  were  on  busi 
ness  and  vexed  me.  What  had  I  to  do  with  business  ? 
I  wanted  to  be  let  alone  and  so  made  short  work  of 
these  reminders  of  my  past.  Newspapers  I  had  for 
bidden.  The  war  had  left  me  long  ago  with  a  horror 
of  them. 

I  went  to  bed,  telling  Dodo  to  take  word  to  Tom 
that  I  would  go  out  with  him  to  his  fishing  ground 
in  the  morning  about  eight  if  the  tide  and  the  weather 
served.  Neither  did,  it  seemed.  The  weather  was 
gray  and  the  ocean  turbulent.  I  decided  at  all  events 
on  a  talk  with  Tom  and  went  away  for  a  mile  walk 
over  the  beach  in  a  waterproof  coat,  the  rain  soon 
falling  heavily.  A  violent  southeast  gale  drove  the 
sea  in  charging  ranks  of  mounded  billows  on  the 
shore,  tearing  off  their  crests  in  long  white  level 
plumes  of  spray  as  they  rose.  A  clatter  of  rattling 
pebbles  followed.  The  roar  of  elate  triumph  in  this 
thunderous  tumult  pleased  me.  The  crush  of  the  huge 
billows  and  their  crash  of  defeat  gave  me  a  vague 
sense  of  pity.  I  liked  my  personal  battle  with  the 
rage  of  the  elements  and  the  feeling  of  competent 
vigor. 

Then  at  last  I  heard,  "Halloa!  You  be  goin'  by 
me,  ain't  you?  "  I  was,  but  now  looking  up  I 
saw  a  man  at  a  log  cabin  door  just  within  the  shelter 
of  the  woods.  I  turned  from  the  shore  and  went 
up  the  bank.  "Come  in,"  he  said.  I  entered  and 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  91 

he  closed  the  door  while  I  threw  off  my  waterproof 
coat. 

"Mr.  Sherwood,  I  guess.  If  Jones  is  right,  you're 
a-temptin'  Providence.  It  's  a  skatherin  kind  of  a 
day." 

What  the  deuce,  thought  I,  is  a  skatherin  day?  I 
was  to  find  that  this  lonely  man  had  an  inventive  tal 
ent  for  words. 

I  said,  "What  did  'Jones  say  of  me?" 

"Oh,  that  man.  He  said  you  was  half  dead  and 
he  guessed  these  pines  would  be  for  sale  pretty  soon. ' ' 

"Will  they,  indeed?     Damn  Jones." 

"Well,  now  I  see  you,  he  don't  seem  to  me  not 
even  one  of  them  minor  prophets  our  preacher  down 
to  Belport  talks  'bout." 

"No,  I  am  well.  I  was  not,  but  this  open-air  life 
has  set  me  up.  Out-of-doors  is  a  fine  doctor." 

"Cold,  are  you?" 

"Rather." 

"Hold  on.  I  '11  make  a  fire."  While  he  set  about 
it,  I  took  a  good  look  at  him,  a  tall,  round-shouldered 
hardy  man,  with  a  freckled  face  of  deep  brown,  large 
yellow  teeth,  a  gray-bearded  visage  with  nearly  shut 
eyes,  and  clad  in  what  he  called  "ilers."  The  blaze 
was  agreeable  and  we  sat  by  it  and  talked. 

"Are  you  one  of  my  tenants,"  I  asked. 

' 'No,  sir.  Own  my  own  land  just  round  the  bight 
of  the  bay,  got  shore  fishing  rights  like  anyone. ' ' 

"Any  luck  this  spring?" 

"Well,  fish  is  like  humans.     They  will  to-day  and 


92  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

to-morrow    they    won't.     They  're    terrifical    unsure. 
Like  to  go  out  with  me  sometime?" 

"I  would.  I  see  on  my  chart  that  out  to  sea  there 
are  some  islands.  Do  you  go  that  far?" 

1  'Yes,  Cod  Rock  and  Lonesome  Ledge.  Queer 
place  that.  No  one  lives  there,  tho'  it  's  good  for 
fish,  and  there  's  Gull  Rock,  which  it  isn  't  just  a  rock, 
but  reefs  and  a  big  woodsy  island,  mostly  scragged 
pines. ' ' 

"Lonesome  Ledge,  why  do  they  call  it  that?" 
"No  one  lives  there.     Tried  it  once,  but  no  man 
can  't  sleep  on  that  there  island.     It  's  the  best  for 
fish.      It  ain  't  a  ledge  tho '  they  named  it  so. ' ' 
"I  should  like  to  try  a  night  there." 
"You  can.     Not  me.     It  's  a  mournsome  place." 
I  had  heard  of  haunted  houses  but  an  island  where 
a  man  was  doomed  to  lie  awake  amused  me.     I  fell 
to  thinking  of  how  the  belief  had  been  created  and 
presently  hatched  a  theory  I  kept  to  myself.     Vol 
unteered  talk  was  not  much  in  Dagett's  line,  having 
on  the  great  sea  he  frequented  no  chances  for  exercise 
of  speech. 

"Have  you  any  family,  Mr.  Dagett?" 
"I  think  I   answer  better  to   the  name  of  Tom. 
Don 't  mind  of  being  mistered  these  years  back.     Con- 
cernin'  family,  I  have  three  and  my  wife." 

"Quite  a  heavy  charge  that  on  a  business  as  un 
certain  as  yours. ' ' 

"Ain't  no  charge,"  he  said  quietly.  "They  're  all 
dead  these  three  years." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  93 

I  took  quick  thought  what  reply  to  make  to  this 
unequalled  statement.  I  elected  the  more  common 
place.  "A  sad  loss,  Tom." 

"That  's  as  may  be,  considering  they  was  all  a 
sickly  lot.  I  'm  settled  to  the  notion  they  're  better 
off.  Will  you  be  wantin'  fish  of  me  and  lobsters?" 

Eelieved  by  this  diversion  of  the  talk,  I  said  yes, 
and  that  Dodo  would  come  for  them  twice  a  week 
and  I  must  see  those  islands.  With  this  I  faced  the 
storm  again,  wondering  as  I  went,  about  this  little 
by-place  of  odd  people. 

Tom,  as  I  left  him,  said  it  was  ornery  weather  and 
flustery.  I  treasured  his  queer  words,  and  above  all 
"mournsome, "  and  went  away  with  attention  to  the 
vast  mounds  of  water  which,  now  that  the  tide  was 
up,  were  at  times  charged  with  danger.  At  last  a 
great  wave  made  me  leap  away  but  caught  Mike  and 
upset  him.  The  surf  and  the  great  wind  drove  me 
sidling  and  crouching  up  the  shore.  Mike  was  rolled 
over  and  over.  When  he  recovered  possession  of  his 
legs,  he  looked  about  for  some  explanation  of  this 
insult  and  finding  none  fled  up  the  beach  and  into 
the  forest  where  I  had  no  mind  to  follow,  having  my 
self  a  stern  joy  in  my  contest  with  the  elements. 

The  immense  amount  of  noise  struck  me.  The  thun 
derous  roar  of  these  miles  of  high-flung  bounding 
waters  as  they  fell  and  fell  would  alone  have  been 
wonderful  to  hear,  for  me  at  least,  to  whom  the  open 
sea  was  unknown  until  now.  The  wind  beating  sounds 
out  of  the  pines  was  now  gentle  and  now  a  furious 


94  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

charge  with  never  long  the  same  response.  It  changed 
from  moment  to  moment  and  became  at  times  low, 
almost  mellow,  or  again  shrill,  sharp  and  then  not  a 
sound.  This  was  all  a  matter  of  tall  pines.  As  I 
came  to  know  later,  the  deciduous  forests  have  other 
voices  when  the  wind  is  on  the  war-path,  with  chal 
lenge  of  their  vigor,  and  their  cry  in  the  norther  like 
enough  to  be  a  death  song  if  any  of  them  stood  alone. 
Then  they  make  murmurous  moan,  soft,  long,  or  like  a 
breathless  wail  of  pain.  In  fact,  near  the  sea  the 
mass  of  the  surrounding  pines  alone  saved  them,  for 
here  was  no  inland  shelter.  There  was  on  the  shore 
a  granite  boulder  ten  feet  high  where  gasping  I  took 
shelter  and  waited,  longing  to  have  some  musical 
recognition  of  certain  distinct  notes  of  this  wild 
orchestra,  at  times  only  a  monstrous  unaccordant  mob 
of  noises.  When  I  climbed  the  rocks,  I  staggered 
to  my  tent  and  gladly  dropped  on  the  lounge. 

Dodo  had  got  back  and  had  set  heavy  logs  between 
the  tent  pins  and  the  canvas  and  lifted  it  at  the  back 
to  let  the  wind  through.  But  for  this,  the  tents 
would  have  been  in  the  skies,  or  in  the  woods. 

"I  was  sure  you  shouldn't  have  gone,"  said  Dodo. 
In  fact,  he  had  warned  me,  but  I  laughed  out  my 
recalled  joy  in  this  ultimate  test  of  my  endurance 
and  retired  to  the  warm  log  kitchen  to  change  my 
clothes. 

The  rain  was  over  and  the  wind,  which  fell  away 
at  sunset,  soon  dried  the  tents.  The  chipmunks  that 
night  retired  to  drier  quarters.  During  my  first 


JOHN  SHEBWOOD,  IRONMASTER  95 

nights,  they  extemporized  a  wild  circus  all  over  the 
tent  canvas,  until  I  discovered  that  if  Mike  slept  in 
my  tent,  they  left  me  in  peace.  As  Mike  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  canine  just,  it  must  have  been  the  dog 
odor  which  thus  routed  them. 

I  sat  in  tired  comfort  and  made  notes — Chipmunks, 
queer  little  monks  they,  or  chipmuk,  the  dictionaries 
say.  I  am  getting  curious  in  the  matter  of  words, 
one  of  my  many  enlargements  of  interest.  "Skath- 
erin"  I  give  up,  but  "mournsome,"  heard  on  the 
lakes,  as  I  discovered  later,  is  worthy  of  promotion 
to  a  place  in  the  dictionaries  where  as  yet  it  is  not, 
nor  woodsy  for  wooded.  Twin  flower  I  find,  Linnea 
borealis,  boreal  I  supposed  because  of  its  habitat.  A 
marginal  note  of  an  after  year  says:  Linnaeus'  wife 
was  oddly  named  Boreala.  Queer,  if  true.  Then  I 
went  to  bed,  which  I  had  as  well  have  done  sooner, 
and  slept,  with  some  faint  previous  thinking  of  that 
island  where  no  man  can  sleep. 

The  days  ran  on  with  a  pretty  regular  routine, 
much  as  described  in  my  letter  to  my  doctor  and,  in 
spite  of  occasional  lapses  into  old  symptoms,  my  gain 
in  weight,  strength  and  what  Carlyle  called,  eupeptic 
conditions,  soon  relieved  me  of  all  thought  of  my 
bodily  state. 

Meanwhile,  Dodo  went  and  came  to  and  from  the 
Christians  with  eggs,  amazingly  good  butter,  chickens 
and  milk,  but  Mrs.  Christian  did  not  come  again  nor 
had  Hapworth  called  to  return  my  involuntary  visit. 
'About  him  I  was  not  only  curious,  but  still  haunted 


96  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

by  the  idea  that  somewhere  I  had  seen  him.  The 
Christians  were  more  obvious  people.  One  sunny 
morning  in  May  Mrs.  Christian  did  appear  after 
breakfast,  rosy  and  smiling,  with  doughnuts  and  a 
dried  apple  pie. 

1 1 1  've  fetched  your  books, ' '  she  said.  ' '  I  did  n  't 
care  much  for  that  man  Byron.  Seemed  he  was  out 
of  humor  with  the  world  and  himself  too.  But  that 
other  book,  ' '  Cranf ord, ' '  why,  you  just  seem  to  know 
those  people.  There  are  folks  down  Belport  way 
just  like  them.  Must  have  been  real." 

"They  were,"  I  said,  "or  some  of  them." 

"I  guessed  no  one  could  have  invented  them. 
Why,  do  you  know,  there  's  a  Major  Brown  at  Bel- 
port,  only  he  has  an  e  to  his  name.  He  lost  an  arm 
at  Antietam  and  when  he  heard  it  was  in  a  glass  jar 
in  the  museum,  he  went  and  got  a  letter  from  Lin 
coln  that  he  was  to  have  it  and  get  it  decently  buried. 
Well,  seeing  that  he  had  reinlisted  the  doctors  told 
him  the  whole  of  him  was  government  property  till 
his  term  was  over.  He  was  that  mad,  for  he  'd  had 
a  gravestone  set  up  in  the  cemetery  to  be  over  the 
arm." 

"Indeed,"  I  was  enjoying  it.  "And  he  put  on  it 
an  inscription?" 

"He  did.  'Here  lies  the  arm  of  Major  Browne, 
abiding  the  time  for  to  come  when  the  Lord  is  of  a 
mind  to  take  the  rest  of  him. '  ' 

"Did  he  ever  get  it?" 

1 '  No,  he  's  been  writing  letters  about  it  ever  since. ' ' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  97 

"That  's  a  good  story,  Mrs.  Christian." 

"I  knew  you  'd  like  it.  How  stout  you  're  getting, 
Mr.  Sherwood." 

I  knew  it  and  what  it  meant. 

"More  books?  suppose  we  try  a  novel." 

I  chose  Rob  Roy  and  she  went  away  with  a  bunch 
of  bananas  and  a  basket  of  oranges. 

A  week  later  she  returned  the  book,  saying,  "No 
more  novels  for  me.  I  just  sat  up  with  it,  till  next 
morning  I  was  so  sleepy  I  could  hardly  get  Peter's 
breakfast,  and  there  's  lots  to  do  and  I  '11  just  bide 
a  while  before  I  have  another.  Good-bye.  Have  you 
seen  Hapworth  again?" 

"No." 

"Said  he  was  thinking  to  come.  Does  seem 
to  take  a  heap  of  time  over  a  simple  bit  of  a  think 
like  that.  What  about  Cairns,  sir?  He  's  another 
queer  one.  He  '11  come,  I  guess." 

"Well,  I  can  wait.     Good-bye.     Come  soon  again." 

The  weather  was  cold  and  rainy  without  much  wind 
for  quite  a  week  in  mid  May,  and  not  pleasant  for 
sailing  or  for  walking  in  the  forest.  I  got  exercise  at 
this  time  in  the  shelter  of  the  long  stretch  of  reef  by 
learning  to  use  the  canoe,  a  light  paper  built  boat, 
in  which  later  I  took  much  pleasure.  I  had  one 
upset,  by  good  hap  near  shore.  The  use  of  the  pad 
dle  and  of  secure  balance  in  this  frailest  of  crafts 
are  not  to  be  had  without  much  practice. 

I  began  after  my  upset  to  devise  a  canoe  that  was 
unupsetable.  This  use  of  invented  words  comes  of 


98  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

want  of  education,  but  why  this  despotism  of  the  dic 
tionary?  Unupsetable  must  stand.  My  one  talent 
had  been  mechanical  invention  and  now  the  old  year 
long  habit  got  grip  of  me  and  I  took  my  baby  idea  to 
sleep  with  me,  worked  with  it,  played  with  it,  and 
fed  it  with  incessant  thought,  for  only  in  this  de 
lirium  of  industry  does  the  inventor  get  his  victo 
ries.  For  him  a  factory,  any  factory,  with  its 
rhythmic  mechanism  is  a  delight.  He  is  the  poet  of 
motion  and  knows  that  no  machine  which  does  not 
sing  true  to  his  ear  is  to  have  long  life.  I  think  I 
said  this  before. 

Two  days  of  such  thought  found  me  losing  sleep 
and  I  let  it  drop  in  alarm  and  accepted  the  malicious 
freaks  of  the  unimproved  canoe,  which  I  soon  learned 
to  handle  with  expertness.  After  all,  a  boat  without 
caprice,  I  comfortably  reflected,  would  be  like  a 
woman  without — well,  I  know  not  what. 

Reading  and  my  notebook  helped  me  through  the 
wet  weather  and  at  last  I  felt  like  writing  to 
Euphemia.  This  lady,  my  near  friend  and  cousin, 
now  a  well-preserved  woman  over  fifty  years  of  age, 
was  a  more  and  more  devout  Koman  Catholic.  I  had 
been  able,  as  I  have  said,  to  make  her  entirely  com 
fortable  by  a  gift  of  enough  money  to  put  her  at 
such  ease  as  had  been  sadly  wanting  in  other  days. 
It  was  the  only  large  gift,  except  that  made  to  Penryn, 
which  I  remember  as  having  given  me  distinct  pleas 
ure.  I  gave  and  usually  thought  little  of  the  object. 
Euphemia  was  now  an  eager  and  wide  reader,  with  a 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  99 

too  emotional  interest  in  people  and  an  ardent  desire 
to  interfere  in  their  doings.  She  had  a  dominative 
spiritual  temperament,  enjoying  like  many  people  of 
her  type  the  mystical  and,  like  some  very  religious 
people,  was  without  alert  sense  of  humor,  despite  her 
own  rarely  used  talent  for  mimicry. 

Dear  Cousin  Eupliemia: 

I  am  making1,  as  I  told  you,  a  Eetreat.  My  spiritual 
advisers  are  wood  and  ocean,  and  I  do  assure  you  they 
are  good  for  me,  soul  and  body.  I  am  well  again,  and  as 
concerns  my  soul,  far  nearer  to  grave  thought  than  when 
that  blessed  M.  D.,  our  cousin,  made  death  seem  to  me  so 
imminent,  and  I  recoiled  from  it  with  the  horror  of  a 
man  unused  to  defeat.  Never  was  I  less  religious  than 
when  I  gathered  from  my  medical  judge  that  I  was  sen 
tenced  to  possibly  slow  decay  and  death.  Abominable  doc 
trine  that,  you  will  say.  For  me,  my  dear  Euphemia, 
such  new  and  untroubled  communion  with  nature  in  its 
many  moods  as  has  here  been  mine,  has  been  more  spir 
itually  useful  than  any  of  the  few  sermons  I  have  ever 
heard,  and  I  might  go  further.  You  will  say  this  is  not 
religion  and  that  there  is  but  one  way  to  God,  the  church, 
your  church.  I  do  not  so  read  God's  dealings  with  man, 
or  with  the  tribes  of  man  in  their  varied  grades  of  civil 
ization.  Do  not  be  shocked  if  I  say  that  it  is  necessary  to 
attribute  common  sense  to  the  ruler  of  the  world.  With 
this  in  mind,  I  cannot  believe  that  any  creed  given  to  man 
was  meant  to  escape  evolutionary  change.  Neither  nature 
nor  religion  is  free  from  the  rule  of  this  law.  I  had  not 
meant  to  lecture  you  or  invite  you  to  read  between  the 
lines  what  in  thoughtful  hours  I  may  think  of  your  church 


100  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

and  its  incessant  feeding  of  man  with  needless  mysteries. 
In  my  present  surroundings  religion  seems  to  become  sim 
ple,  nor  can  I  here  avoid  belief  in  my  immediate  respon 
sibility  to  the  Maker  without  need  of  the  authoritative  in 
termediation  of  a  church.  But  a  man  is  himself  and  his 
creed  and  thus  no  serious  person  in  or  out  of  a  church  is 
really  the  absolute  slave  of  his  accepted  beliefs,  not  even 
if  he  decide  to  think  he  is.  I  hear  you  exclaim,  "Good 
gracious,  John,  what  nonsense!" 

I  did  not  mean  to  write  about  that  of  which  I  never  talk, 
but  it  may  serve  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  acquiring  new 
subjects  of  thought,  and  rest  sure  after  this  that  you  will 
be  my  only  confessor.  I  wonder  whether  men  at  least 
would  not  on  the  whole  confess  more  easily  to  woman. 
Let  the  naughty  part  of  me  confess  to  the  better  part, 
Conscience.  But  here  I  am  off  again.  No  more  of  that. 

I  hear  Dodo  calling — I  have  just  been  out  on  my  rock 
to  look  at  something,  a  rocket,  I  judge,  and  then  another. 
This  coast  is  a  death  trap.  We  listened  and  looked,  but 
saw  nor  heard  anything  more.  Dodo  thought  that  she — 
a  ship — may  have  weathered  the  cape  to  north  and  found  a 
refuge.  I  do  not  know.  A  gale  is  rising  and  now  and 
then  there  is  a  fierce  gust  of  wind  and  a  sound  like  a  brief 
wail  from  my  pines  of  the  many  voices. 

I  have  been  thinking  about  women,  all  along  of  a  limp 
ing  novel.  When  again  I  write,  I  may  air  my  opinions 
of  your  sex  with  the  liberty  of  inexperience.  Let  us  laugh 
at  them  a  little,  for  they  have  their  revenge  when  we 
marry.  So  far  I  have  escaped  the  Comedy,  the  lever  de 
rideau,  which  precedes  the  tragedy  of  domestic  life.  I 
have  here  the  only  real  insurance  against  the  accident 
called  marriage,  that  is,  entire  absence  of  women.  But 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  101 


then  as  a  warning  there  is  the  ^e&skical'  case  'of  'Adam.    I 
ought  to  touch  wood.    I  do1.    -Good:  uigkh  :*;  :•,  J  •  -\ 

Yotfr's', ' 

J.  S. 

This  set  me  to  thinking.  I  should  like  to  know 
Euphemia's  honest  opinion  of  women.  I  learned  of 
later  years  that  what  the  married  and  the  elect  maid 
ens  think  of  women  singularly  differs.  I  had  known 
them  in  their  variety,  but  work  is  a  stern  enemy  of 
the  sex,  and  why  think  of  them  now  at  all,  or  of  a 
double  dozen  of  subjects  which  never  before  had  for 
me  any  interest?  I  seemed  to  be  exercising  a  limit 
less  mental  hospitality,  which  reminds  me,  I  know  npt 
why,  to  order  a  good  telescope. 

A  morning  of  May — why  is  that  such  a  pretty 
name? — was  faultless,  sky  and  ocean  blue,  azure,  we 
say,  an  Arabian  word.  "Why  more  expressive  than 
blue?  Our  vocabulary  of  colour  seems  to  be  meagre 
and  one  must  resort  to  comparatives  such  as  orange, 
violet,  indigo,  etc.  I  wonder  if  savage  people  have 
our  color  sense  or  more  words  for  tints. 

I  told  Dodo  we  would  go  together  and  see  my  un 
social  squatters  and  ask  lunch  of  Mrs.  Christian. 
In  fact,  I  was  hungry  for  exercise.  It  was  nine  when 
we  left,  with  Mike  hilariously  barking. 

We  left  the  brook  and  Dodo  went  on  ahead  slowly 
as  I  insisted,  to  give  me  leisure  to  look  about  me,  for 
I  was  learning  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  simple  ob 
servation  unaided  by  science  or  explanatory  wisdom. 


102  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Dodo  went  without  .apparent  care  a  course  of  his 
own,  I  iulaite.'*kig  mood.,  now  companioned  by  fancy, 
now  by  rather  lazy  reason.1  • 

I  asked  Dodo  how  he  knew  the  way.  He  reckoned 
it  was  just  the  same  way  Mike  knew  to  go.  This  was 
conclusive.  Then  I  asked  where  was  the  north.  He 
had  it  as  correct  as  my  compass.  I  said,  "The  moss 
seems  to  be  mostly  on  the  north  side  of  the  trees." 
Dodo  did  not  know,  hadn't  noticed  that,  nor  did  he 
appear  capable  of  this  kind  of  observation. 

The  beauty  of  the  trunks  of  the  white  birch  caught 
my  eye  and  the  grays  and  greens,  like  some  mottled 
snakeskin,  of  the  striped  maple.  Presently  we  came 
on  to  spruce,  fragrant  after  the  rain,  but  in  fact 
there  were  divers  odors  of  earth  and  others  of  un 
known  product,  a  mingling  as  in  some  of  the  pop 
ular  artificial  perfumes.  I  observed  at  a  later  time 
that,  after  a  soaking  rain,  especially  at  dusk  of  day, 
these  wood  smells  are  more  distinct,  on  which,  if 
I  were  a  poet,  I  could  say  things  of  note,  but  when 
a  man  has  imagination  and  can  not  speak  its  language 
he  had  better  enjoy  its  silence.  Storm  and  rage 
of  great  waters,  flaming,  far-flung  firebrands  from 
the  cloud  battlements  of  heaven  I  have  seen  here  and 
felt  how  more  neighboured  I  grew  to  Him  of  whom 
were  these  measureless  energies,  arch  demons  of 
deathful  power  and  still  aglow  with  the  arch-angelic 
splendor.  I  have  longed  to  set  it  all  in  words,  yearned 
for  the  poet's  power,  the  mind  pregnant  of  a  thing 
never  to  be  born,  vain  longings  felt  of  many.  I 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  103 

smiled  as  I  thought  of  the  impropriety  of  anyone  but 
a  poet  king  dancing  for  joy  of  what  the  unnamable 
One  has  given. 

Such  thoughts  came  and  went  through  my  mind 
with  bird-like  quickness  of  flight  as  I  strode  after 
Dodo,  until  we  came  on  the  marsh.  Here  at  this  time 
I  first  saw  the  pitcher  plant,  with  its  tall  stem,  not 
yet  flower  crowned,  and  below  the  graceful  green 
vase  with  an  appetite  for  animal  diet,  as  I  learned 
later.  I  got  Dodo  to  fill  a  basket  with  it  and  the 
marsh  soil.  On  my  return,  I  set  it  out  near  the  tent 
in  a  bowl  where  I  discovered  in  the  wet  earth  the 
sundew,  with  its  luring  trap  for  insects,  which  led 
me  to  send  for  books  on  the  lives  and  ways  of  plants. 
The  pain-inflicting  habits  of  animals  are  strange 
enough,  but  some  of  the  feeding  methods  of  the  veg 
etable  world  appear  needlessly  cruel.  I  saw  long 
after  this  in  a  hothouse  a  tall  tropical  pitcher  plant 
armed  at  top  with  two  sharp  thorns.  When  the  lesser 
creatures,  like  little  mice,  try  to  enter  the  cup  and 
plunder  for  food  the  accumulated  dead  insects  within, 
they  get  impaled  on  the  thorns  and  rotting,  fall  in, 
adding  to  the  food  stores  of  the  greedy  Saracenia.  I 
concluded  that  I  would  not  bother  my  head  with  this 
difficulty  about  merciless  nature  and  a  merciful  God. 
My  own  suffering  had  been  a  friend  to  me,  but  for 
my  trapped,  tortured  mouse — what  is  there  to  say  ? 

At  the  marsh  Dodo  struck  off  to  the  right  and  very 
soon  we  came  out  on  Christian's  clearing. 

Mrs.  Christian  was  pinning  a  variety  of  garments 


104  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

on  clothes  lines,  aided  by  a  stout  rosy  girl  of  eighteen. 
As  I  watched  her  a  moment  unseen,  I  saw  how  grace 
ful  were  her  movements.  The  girl  was  more  the 
mother's  child.  Both  were  singing  with  evident 
pleasure,  the  words  heard  with  distinctness,  as  is 
rarely  the  case  with  the  greater  trained  voices.  Mike 
barking,  to  my  regret,  spoilt  the  pretty  picture,  and 
the  song — or  was  it  a  hymn,  ceased. 

"Good  gracious,  Mr.  Sherwood,"  cried  Mrs. 
Christian,  "now  you  have  ketched  me — and  not  fit 
to  be  seen.  Come  in.  Peter's  gone  to  Belport  to  tell 
the  major  no  more  chickens  for  him.  What  between 
you  and  Hapworth,  we  are  like  to  run  short  of 
fowls." 

Dodo  set  down  his  basket  and  went  away  to  inspect 
chickens  for  a  choice  and  the  girl  passed  into  the 
house. 

"Your  girl  sings  well,"  I  said. 

"Lord's  sake,  don't  tell  her!  She  's  that  set  up 
about  it.  Mr.  Hapworth  told  her  it  was  something 
out  of  the  common. ' ' 

"It  is.     What  were  you  singing,  a  hymn?" 

"Oh,  a  kind  of.  Mr.  Hapworth  fetched  it  one  day 
and  sang  it  too.  I  guess  he  made  it  up  himself.  It  's 
about  saying  prayers  lying  down  in  bed.  Now  that 
is  a  queer  idea,  isn't  it,  sir?" 

I  said,  "Yes,  perhaps,"  and  had  thus  a  fresh  light 
on  Hapworth. 

"I  have  written  it  down.     Like  to  see  it?" 

I  did  and,  pleased  with  it,  made  a  copy  in  my  note- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  105 

book.  I  was  going,  I  said,  to  see  Hapworth  and 
Cairns,  and  would  she  give  me  lunch  on  our  way 
back?  As  we  went  out,  she  saw  the  basket  of 
marsh  mud  and  said,  "Oh,  you  've  got  the  side  saddle 
plants,"  and  kneeling  to  look  at  them,  "here  's  the 
sundew.  He  's  a  greedy  one,  too." 

' '  Sundew, ' '  I  commented.     ' '  What  a  pretty  name ! ' ' 

Later  I  observed  that  when  the  sun  was  hot,  little 
drops  like  dew  came  out  on  the  leaves  and  this  may 
explain  the  pretty  name,  sundew.  I  wondered  what 
observant  peasant  thus  christened  it. 

Leaving  Dodo  to  wait  for  me,  I  whistled  to  Mike 
and  took  to  the  lonely  wood  road  which  led  to  Hap 
worth 's  and  to  Cairns,  on  the  highway  to  Belport. 

As  I  had  said,  there  was  significance  in  the  fact  that 
Hap  worth's  cabin  was  set  with  its  back  to  the  road, 
nor  was  there  a  gate.  To  enter  the  rude  clearing, 
one  must  climb  the  snake  fence.  Passing  around  to 
the  front,  I  went  through  the  only  part  of  the  land 
which  showed  care  in  a  very  well-kept  garden  now 
responding  to  the  Maytime  sun.  Mike,  who  had  no 
manners,  but  a  generally  distributed  amiability, 
bounded  barking  through  the  open  door.  There  was 
no  escape  for  my  unwilling  host. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sherwood,"  he  said,  rising  from  a  writ 
ing-table,  "come  in,  or  do  you  like  better  the  sun 
outside?" 

I  was  too  curious  to  accept  what  I  fancied  he  de 
sired  and  saying,  "No,  I  am  too  warm  now,"  went 
in  and  took  the  proffered  chair. 


106  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"This  time,"  I  said,  "I  have  come  on  a  visit  to  a 
neighbor,  not  to  a  tenant.  I  have  been  hoping  for  a 
visit  from  you." 

"The  weather  has  been  bad."  Then  he  paused 
long  enough  to  make  the  interval  of  silence  seem 
strange  and  said,  with  deliberate  slowness,  "The  fact 
is,  Mr.  Sherwood,  to  be  frank,  I  came  to  this  place 
for  a  purpose  and  to  get  awav  from  my  kind.  The 
why  is  no  man's  business  but  my  own.  You  are  my 
landlord  and  I  pay  my  rent.  Your  kindly  persistent 
wish  to  know  me  is,  I  am  sure,  well  meant,  but  as  on 
the  whole  I  am  desirous  to  secure,  perhaps  for  years, 
a  retreat  from  the  world  I  knew,  you  must  pardon 
my  insisting  on  my  right  to  be  undisturbed!" 

It  was  oddly  formal  and  deliberate  and  not  very 
pleasant.  I  rose  at  once,  annoyed  for  a  moment  at  him 
and  then  at  myself  for  not  having  acted  on  the  pre 
vious  distinct  evidence  of  the  man's  wish  for  a  sol 
itary  life. 

I  said  quietly,  "You  are  quite  right  and  I  should 
have  respected  your  wish.  You  will  pardon  me,  I  am 
sure.  The  fact  is,  I,  too,  am  making  a  Retreat. ' ' 

"Did  I  say  I  was  making  a  Eetreat?"  He  showed 
some  anxiety. 

"Yes,  or  to  that  effect.  Mine  has  been  very  suc 
cessful.  Permit  me  to  hope  that  yours  has  been." 

' '  That  is  between  me  and  my  God.  I  do  not  know. 
May  I  offer  you  anything?" 

"A  little  water  for  my  dog." 

"Certainly." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  107 

While  he  was  outside  at  the  well,  I  took  note  of 
the  couple  of  hundred  books,  the  brass  firedogs,  the 
table  with  a  silver  inkstand,  a  desk  and  the  general 
order  and  neatness.  I  longed  to  look  at  his  books, 
but  of  course  did  not  and  was  sorry  I  had  gotten 
his  verse. 

In  a  minute  or  two,  I  met  him  at  the  door  and  say 
ing  good-bye,  turned  to  go  when  he  said  a  singular 
thing.  "  After  all,  Mr.  Sherwood,  a  man  has  a  right 
to  refuse  to  another  the  hospitality  of  access  to  his 
mind." 

"Each  to  his  cell,  then,"  I  cried,  laughing,  "but 
other  forms  of  hospitality  being  still  possible,  I  am 
always  at  your  service. ' ' 

"Very  neatly  answered,  Mr.  Sherwood,"  and  now 
he  was  smiling.  "We  will  part  as  did  Hamlet  from 
his  friends,  'Every  man  to  his  business/  '  Then  he 
added  gravely,  "And  the  rest  of  it,  the  rest." 

With  a  kind  word  and,  thinking  over  the  remainder 
of  his  quotation,  I  went  away  along  the  road.  Here 
was  a  strange  find  in  this  wilderness,  a  gentleman 
clearly,  educated,  yes,  with  a  certain  oddness,  some 
thing  strikingly  uncommonplace  and  no  business  of 
mine. 

"Come,  Mike.    You  are  a  born  tramp." 

Then  I  stood  still.  "Retreat"— I  had  it,  but 
why  not  before?  These  disassociations  and  reasso- 
ciations  of  memory,  how  wonderful  they  are.  I  had 
my  man.  His  name  was  Benedict  Norman,  the  sur 
name  never  given  to  a  child  in  this  country  since 


108  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Benedict  Arnold's  infamy.  He  was  a  clergyman  of 
my  own  nominal  church  who  long  ago  had  asked  help 
for  one  of  my  workmen,  ill  and  of  course  out  of 
work.  My  head  clerk  had  seen  him  and  brought  me 
his  request  with  his  name.  It  had  struck  me  as  un 
usual.  I  gave  the  desired  aid,  but  although  I  saw  him 
once  or  twice,  near  the  works,  we  had  never  spoken. 
This  was  quite  four  years  ago  or  more.  He  must  be 
about  my  age.  When  I  first  heard  of  him  he  had  a 
small  parish  near  my  foundry  in  the  country.  Had 
he  recognized  me?  I  was  sure  he  had  not  and  that 
was  not  strange. 

I  lunched  liberally  with  Mrs.  Christian  and  her 
shy,  handsome  girl  and  went  home  without  seeing 
the  volunteer  tenant,  Cairns,  who  would  neither  pay 
rent,  said  Jones,  nor  go  to  see  his  landlord.  Surely 
I  was  in  relation  with  rare  specimens  of  man  ec 
centric  or  possibly  only  so  unlike  the  average  man 
as  to  be  unwilling  to  live  with  him  and  desiring 
seclusion  on  account  of  some  of  the  hurts  of  life,  an 
animal  habit  with  an  instinctive  basis.  Mike  exempli 
fied  it  when,  after  misbehavior,  he  had  been  pun 
ished. 

My  own  desire  for  a  lonely  corner  had  been  sat 
isfied.  When  I  regained  my  health,  I  should  have 
been  once  more  the  man  I  was,  with  fixed  habits 
and  impatient,  mild  contempt  for  the  lame  ducks, 
the  incapables,  the  unusable  people;  a  want  of  char 
ity  that,  Euphemia  said.  I  replied  that  she  had  it 
for  two  and  that  I  was  doing  enough  if  I  supplied 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  109 

her  with  money  to  run  her  church  charities  and  help 
the  folks  that  could  but  would  not,  or  would  but 
could  not.  Now  I  had  somehow  shed  my  indiffer 
ence  concerning  social  freaks  and  my  distrust  of  peo 
ple  who  had  lost  the  herding  instinct.  I  had  begun 
to  entertain  charitable  reasons  for  the  desire  of 
others  than  I  to  secure  the  monastic  seclusion  of 
loneliness. 

Here  were  three  strange  characters,  including  the 
fisherman,  who  too  must  be  what  people  call  a  char 
acter,  and  content  to  live  alone.  When  Dodo,  with  his 
customary  frankness,  had  asked  Tom  Dagett  why  he 
did  n  't  get  married  again,  Tom  had  replied  by  asking 
him  if  he  were  married.  Dodo  said  he  had  tried  it 
twice  and  both  were  dead ;  to  which  Tom,  with  a  grim 
smile,  said  he  'd  been  smart  enough  to  find  out  one  was 
all  he  wanted  and  now  he  did  guess  he  and  her  both 
were  better  off,  for  she  was  in  heaven  and,  with  a  grin, 
he  himself  was  not,  and  hoped  he  had  a  little  time  left. 
The  inference  was  not  missed  by  Dodo. 

When  I  mentioned  it  to  Mrs.  Christian,  she  said: 
"They  were  just  about  near  to  getting  apart  on 
earth. ' '  And  then,  after  a  reflective  pause,  ' '  Fact  is, 
Mr.  Sherwood,  that  woman  couldn't  cook.  If  more 
women  knew  how  to  cook,  there  would  n 't  be  so  many 
divorces.  Beauty  's  a  thing  don't  stand  against  time 
and  weather,  but  right  good  cooking  does,  and  so  I  tell 
Susan.  Sour  bread  will  spoil  any  marriage,  Mr.  Sher 
wood.  It  goes  with  sour  children  and  a  sour  hus 
band." 


IX 


AT  home  I  would  not  have  had  the  least  curiosity 
concerning  the  man  who  was  Norman  and  chose 
to  play  hermit  and  call  himself  Hapworth.  I  would 
have  dismissed  him  with  the  label,  Krank,  with  a  K, 
which  a  writer  has  proposed  as  not  being  so  disre 
spectful  to  an  honest  piece  of  mechanism,  the  Crank. 

Now  I  had  become  interested  to  know  more  of  my 
tenant.  That  night  I  wrote  to  Euphemia  to  inquire 
about  the  Rev.  Benedict  Norman,  but  said  nothing  of 
his  being  a  neighbor.  Euphemia  always  sturdily  de 
nied  a  love  of  gossip  but  would,  I  was  sure,  find  out 
for  me  all  I  desired  to  know  and  be  very  eager  to 
learn  why  I  had  any  interest  in  the  clergyman. 

For  a  while,  I  failed  to  hear  more  of  my  human 
neighbors  and  took  to  sailing  the  catboat  with  Dodo 
and  Mike,  my  sailor  servant  insisting  upon  my  learn 
ing  to  handle  the  boat  before  I  ventured  far  from 
home.  I  soon  became  expert  in  sailing  and  at  last 
proposed  that  we  run  out  to  Lonesome  Ledge,  taking 
Tom  and  towing  his  light  fishing  dory. 

When  I  said  that  I  meant  to  sleep  there,  Dodo,  who 
accepted  all  my  whims  and  knew  nothing  of  the 
island's  bad  name,  thought  he  would  run  over  with 
Tom  and  take  a  tent  and  blankets.  Tom  made  no 

110 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  111 

comment  except  that  folks  from  town  had  queer  ways, 
but  he  would  go  of  course.  Dodo  accordingly  sailed 
with  Tom  and  came  back  smelling  vilely  of  fish,  hav 
ing  pitched  a  small  unused  tent  for  me. 

We  set  sail  at  noon  of  a  very  warm  and  brilliant 
May  day,  Tom,  Dodo,  Mike  and  I,  and  ran  straight  out 
to  sea  with  a  fresh  wind  from  the  northwest.  About 
five,  we  anchored  in  the  lee  of  the  island,  set  Dodo 
ashore  and  had  a  prosperous  take  of  cod,  haddock 
and  rock  flounders. 

Then  I  declared  that  I  meant  to  spend  the  night 
here  alone  with  Mike  and  they  would  return  for  me 
next  morning.  Dodo  was  rebellious  and  said  we  were 
going  to  have  a  storm,  but  when  I  persisted  and  Tom 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  storm,  Dodo  silently  provided 
for  my  comfort  and,  very  cross,  sailed  away  with 
Dagett,  who  being  by  this  time  sure  of  being  well 
paid  for  all  services,  wished  me  a  good  night  and 
grinning  would  be  back  early  next  day. 

I  had  my  way  and  was  pleased  with  being  ma 
rooned.  The  island  was  about  two  or  three  acres, 
chiefly  ruddy  granite  rocks,  twenty  to  sixty  feet  high. 
To  southeast  was  a  beach  and  outside  a  curved  reef. 
My  survey  was  brief  and  without  interest  except 
that  between  two  rocks  lay  the  crushed  wreckage  of 
an  ancient  sloop,  festooned  with  green  seaweeds, 
which  rose  and  fell  with  the  waves  as  they  ran  into 
the  dark  hold  and  out  again,  white  and  hurried. 
The  bow  was  high  up  and  two  seaworn  gray  blocks 
swung  over  the  side,  not  unlike,  oh,  very  like,  skulls. 


112  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  lighted  my  pipe  and  sat  wondering  if  anyone  had 
escaped  from  the  wreck  and  if  so,  how  long  they 
waited  for  human  help.  Mike  wandered  and  came 
and  went  and  at  last  gave  up  a  futile  search  for 
game  and  fell  asleep  at  my  feet. 

I  was  pleased  to  have  come,  liking  my  entire  isola 
tion  and  realizing  again  in  this  sea-guarded  solitude 
that  strange  sense  of  nearness  to  God,  which  is  rarely 
to  be  had  in  the  busy  life  of  cities,  and  is  the 
priceless  gift  of  nature's  most  generous  hours.  It 
was  worth  while  to  have  come  for  this  alone.  I  made 
no  effort  at  self-analysis ;  had  indeed  no  desire  to  find 
an  explanation  of  what  was  a  voice  from  the  soul  with 
ever  for  me  the  sense  of  that  mystery  of  peace  which 
is  past  understanding  and  therefore  remote  from  the 
cold  explanations  of  reason. 

I  called  Mike  as  the  night  came  and  went  up  to 
the  higher  level,  where  were  some  scrub  oaks  and 
a  dozen  bewildered  pines  storm-bent  and  stunted. 
The  sky  was  darkly  clear,  the  stars  brilliant,  the  waves 
monotonously  breaking.  I  undressed  in  the  tent  and 
was  glad  of  the  warmth  of  my  blankets. 

I  was  to  go  to  sleep.  I  smiled  at  Tom's  legend. 
I  thought  that  if  I  did  not  sleep  it  would  be  because 
I  was  obsessed  by  his  belief.  That  was  too  absurd 
to  be  entertained  for  a  moment. 

I  put  it  aside  and  began  to  recall  what  my  doctor 
has  said  of  what  he  called  the  prce  dormitium,  that 
clouding  interval  between  being  awake  and  asleep,  a 
time  when  the  sentinel  senses  go  off  guard,  one  by 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  113 

one,  and  at  last  we  pass  into  the  world  of  slum 
ber.  No  man  has  full  knowledge  of  that  passage. 
I  lay  awake  and  having  in  this  interval,  as  have 
many  up  to  middle  life,  power  to  see  what  they 
will,  or  perhaps  what  they  will  not  to  see,  I  beheld 
unendingly  the  blocks,  like  skulls,  swinging  over  the 
wreckage.  I  kept  on  seeing  them. 

At  last  I  got  up  and  struck  my  repeater  watch.  It 
was  past  eleven.  I  took  a  look  at  the  sky,  which  was 
darkening  with  a  scurry  of  clouds  from  the  southeast. 
The  wind  blew  in  gusts,  no  steadification  in  it,  as 
Tom  would  have  said.  Mike  was  gone.  I  whistled 
and  he  was  again  at  my  feet.  He  too  was  sleepless. 
I  went  back  to  bed  and  lay  awake,  hearing  the  can 
vas  flap  and  the  tent  ropes  hum  in  the  rising  gale. 
Outside  Mike  sat  up  and  howled  like  a  possessed 
thing.  At  last  he  came  into  the  tent.  I  soothed 
him,  but  he  was  shivering  with  cold  so  that  I  bade 
him  lie  down  and  cast  a  fold  of  my  blanket  over 
him.  Even  then  he  moved  uneasily,  but  slept  no 
more  than  I,  who  felt  that  the  storm  quite  suffi 
ciently  explained  my  insomnia.  It  was  blowing  furi 
ously.  Aware  that  I  must  do  something  to  secure 
the  tent,  I  sat  up.  A  moment  later  the  tent  was  in 
air  and  I  saw  it,  sailing  kite-like,  to  leeward,  a  gray 
blur  and  then  gone. 

It  had  begun  to  rain,  a  good  steady  downfall.  I 
dressed  in  haste,  wrapped  the  blankets  about  me  and 
was  soon  wet  to  the  skin.  Both  Mike  and  I  had  a 
horrible  night.  I  walked,  smoked  and  lay  down,  wet 


114  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

as  I  was,  wondering  if  my  little  tubercle  would  find 
in  my  condition  an  ally. 

The  morning  broke  in  radiance  of  scarlet  to  east 
ward.  The  rain  ceased,  but  the  wind  blew  with  in 
creasing  violence,  hurling  the  spray  some  sixty  feet 
high  over  the  rocks.  I  was  in  for  an  unexpected  stay, 
but  the  wind  and  the  sun  soon  dried  me,  as  I  ran 
to  and  fro,  or  stopped  to  share  my  wet  provisions 
with  Mike.  I  was  too  disgustingly  uncomfortable  to 
admire  the  waterworks  and  could  do  no  more  than 
smoke  and  wait.  About  three  p.  M.  Dodo  and  Tom 
appeared  and,  with  much  trouble,  the  wind  failing, 
made  a  landing  and  got  me  off  the  island. 

"Said  it  would  storm,  sir,"  said  Dodo.  He  was 
anxious  and  then,  as  usual,  cross. 

Tom,  at  the  helm,  was  silent,  but  at  last  remarked 
in  a  casual  way,  "Get  any  sleep?" 

"No,"  I  said.     "Who  could,  in  that  gale?" 

"  'Twasn't  the  gale,"  said  Tom.  "Tell  you  some 
day.  Look  out  for  the  boom,  sir;  got  to  get  about." 

We  were  out  of  it  at  last.  At  home,  well  chidden, 
I  was  put  to  bed  with  hot  bottles  and  a  cup  of  hot 
ter  cocoa,  treated  in  fact  like  a  very  naughty  child. 
To  my  surprise,  there  were  no  bad  results,  but  I 
was  cured  of  desire  to  repeat  my  experiment,  al 
though  still  very  curious  to  hear  Tom's  theory.  I 
have  always  had  an  eager  will  to  know  all  of  a 
matter  and  a  certain  patient  urgency  to  end  things, 
a  mechanical  problem  or  a  large  business  affair. 

This  habitual  desire  was  now  continually  teasing 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  115 

me  about  small  matters,  such  as  in  my  old  city  days 
would  have  had  for  me  no  least  interest.  I  seemed 
also  to  have  come  into  an  enlarging  inheritance  of 
the  lesser  pleasures.  To  discover  the  first  white  vio 
let  and  to  find  that  it  had  perfume  such  as  the  yel 
low  and  purple  violets  have  not  was  a  memorable 
event. 

If  Dodo  had  had  his  way,  I  would  have  been  in 
bed  for  a  week.  In  truth,  I  felt  the  better,  the  more 
self-assured  for  my  tussle  with  the  storm  on  Lone 
some  Ledge.  I  had  never  been  an  invalid,  but  at 
home  I  had  been  fast  becoming  invalid  (a  queer 
language  our  English,  a  change  of  accent  and  we 
have  two  words,  though  spelled  alike).  The  day 
after  my  sleepless  night,  I  humored  Dodo,  but  next 
morning,  as  I  slept  always  with  the  tent  open  on 
all  sides,  the  gray  dawn  as  usual  called  me.  An 
acquaintance  of  mine  says  the  young  age  into  fatigue 
as  the  day  goes  on  to  its  close,  but  the  aged  get 
up  old  and  grow  younger  all  day.  As  I  never  was 
old  I  could  not  confirm  this,  but  I  do  know  that  the 
sudden  escape  from  the  oppression  of  disease  into 
the  liberty  of  the  do-as-you-please  country,  makes 
it  almost  worth  while  to  have  been  in  the  bondage 
of  the  doctor,  which  is  in  fact  to  be  aged. 

I  was  up  and  out  on  the  cliff  in  a  moment.  I 
smiled  at  my  fancy  that  the  sea  was  tired  after  the 
storm,  for  never  again  did  I  see  it  so  calm.  As 
the  light  grew,  for  the  first  time  I  was  struck  with  the 
wonderful  stillness  of  this  tremendous  spectacle  of  a 


116  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

sunrise.  To-day  it  was  simple,  in  a  way,  a  vast  glow 
of  scarlet  light  in  the  sky  and  on  the  sea  a  level 
scarlet  reflex.  It  gave  me  a  quite  new  feeling,  some 
thing  akin  to  awe,  for  in  fact  sensitiveness  to  color 
was  one  of  the  gains  this  wild-wood  life  had  given 
me,  or  was  it  not  a  novel  gift  but  the  use  of  a  hith 
erto  neglected  capacity? 

I  went  down  to  the  beach  and  lay  on  the  shore. 
The  ocean  plain  was  motionless.  It  is  never  really 
altogether  moveless  at  the  shore  line.  The  vast  life- 
ful  thing  throbbed  noiseless  in  little  waves  on  the 
beach.  The  great  tides  seemed  to  me  'huge  breath 
ings  of  the  sea's  immensity'  and  this  faint  note  of 
the  little  waves  like  the  heart  beats  of  the  slumber 
ing  monster.  Again  I  had  the  hopeless  yearning  to 
put  my  thought  in  verse  as  I  lay  in  the  gold  of  the 
risen  sun.  Would  such  a  power  reveal  to  me  more 
than  these  reveries  told?  I  recalled  a  favorite  quo 
tation  of  Euphemia,  ' '  La  poesie  ne  doit  pas  tout  dire, 
mais  peut  tout  rever."  Ah,  if  then  I  can  but  only 
dream,  I  may  be  as  near  the  soul  of  things  as  ever 
the  poet  can  be.  He  too  has  his  defects.  It  was 
consoling. 

A  plunge  into  the  sea  dismissed  the  poetry  and 
with  that  deep  gasp  of  chest-filling  respiration  a  cool 
dip  causes,  I  ran  away  up  the  cliff  to  get  a  rough  rub 
and  dry  myself  and  then  to  cuddle  up  in  my  bed 
and  sleep. 

Dodo,  pleased  that  I  had  slept  so  long,  awoke  me 
at  eight  and  guessed  I  might  get  up  if  I  was  careful. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  117 

Still  curious  about  that  Lonesome  Ledge,  I  walked 
alone  up  the  beach  at  evening  and  found  Tom  mend 
ing  a  lobster  pot. 

1  'Well,  Tom,"  I  said,  "what  of  that  island  where 
no  man  can  sleep  ?  I  certainly  did  not,  nor  my  dog 
Mike.  I  have  brought  you  some  tobacco." 

"And  I  was  just  out  of  it.  Well,  Mr.  Sherwood, 
this  is  what  my  grandfather  told  me.  Way  off  in 
those  French  days  afore  our  folk  took  Louisberg, 
some  fishermen  got  blowed  down  this  way  and 
wrecked  on  Lonesome  Ledge.  There  was  two  broth 
ers  come  ashore  alive  and  afore  the  shallop  smashed 
they  got  out  of  it  victuals  and  water  to  last  a  week. 
When  it  was  nigh  all  done  they  fell  to  despairin'  and 
the  older  one  said  to  draw  lots  which  should  die  and 
leave  the  other  a  chance  to  bide,  else  both  would 
die  sure.  Fell  out  the  elder  got  the  death  lot.  He 
just  ran  down  and  leapt  off  the  big  rock.  End  of 
him.  The  other  ate  and  drank  till  all  was  gone. 
Some  of  our  cod  boats  going  south  saw  a  wild  man 
stumbling  round  on  that  bit  of  beach.  They  ran  in  to 
help  him.  He  died  'fore  they  could  get  him  aboard, 
but  he  did  tell  them  all  about  it  and  said  he  was  a 
murderer,  which  I  don't  see  nohow.  They  buried 
him  up  on  the  hill.  The  storms  leveled  what  mound 
they  set  over  him  and  when  Dodo  he  put  up  your 
tent  I  kind  of  did  suspicion  it  was  best  not  to  tell 
you  you  was  goin'  to  lie  right  over  that  dead  man. 
You  did,  sure  enough.  I  've  knowed  two  men  tried 
to  sleep  there.  They  didn't  sleep  and  you  didn't 


118  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

and  the  dog  didn't.  Like  to  try  it  again,  sir?" 
Tom  grinned. 

"No.     I  shouldn't  like  to  spoil  a  good  story. " 

"It  won't  spile,"  said  Tom. 

We  talked  fish  and  went  up  to  Tom's  cabin  to  see 
a  gun  I  had  bought  for  him,  after  which  I  walked 
home,  reflecting  on  Lonesome  Ledge.  It  was  easy  to 
explain  the  sleeplessness  of  the  first  man  who  had  tried 
to  sleep  there,  knowing  of  the  story  of  the  brothers. 
I  confessed  to  myself  that  I  was  pleased  not  to  have 
been  aware  beforehand  of  my  under  neighbor,  the  dead 
fisherman. 

Thus  the  days  ran  on  into  June,  with  books,  fish 
ing,  sailing  and  visits  from  Mrs.  Christian.  She  was 
very  intelligent  and  kindly,  oddly  humorous  company. 
She  told  me  Hapworth  came  daily  for  milk  and 
chickens  and  had  learned  at  last  to  make  bread  for 
himself.  Of  a  Sunday,  she  said,  that  every  week  he 
would  come  and  read  prayers,  to  which  came  always 
Cairns,  with  whom  he  was  at  ease  and  of  whom  Mrs. 
Christian  talked  less  freely.  Reading  prayers  out  of 
a  book  did  not  have  her  approval.  It  was  like  one 
hen  getting  another  hen  to  lay  eggs  for  her,  on  which 
I  broke  into  great  laughter. 

"At  least,"  I  said,  "the  hen  would  know  what 
the  egg  would  be,  but  what  another  man  prays  for 
you  may  not  suit  you  at  all." 

She  said,  "That  's  so.  Ought  to  hear  Deacon 
Dagett — that  's  Tom's  cousin.  It  's  mighty  inform 
ing,  but  I  guess  the  Lord  does  n't  need  quite  so  much 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  119 

information.  Concerning  prayer,  if  we  ask  what  's 
fit  for  us,  we  get  it,  and  if  we  ask  what  's  not  fit, 
we  don't  and  that  's  the  whole  of  that  business." 
Then  she  paused  and  added,  "No,  that  isn't  all. 
Seems  to  me  right  honest  praying  out  loud  by  your 
self  sort  of  talks  you  out  of  the  world.  I  've  found 
it  relieving  when  things  are  crooked.  I  don't  seem 
to  explain  myself.  Now  I  must  go.  You  have  n  't 
been  to  the  spring  yet,  so  Dodo  says. ' ' 

"No,  I  really  have  been  too  busy.  I  must  see  it." 
When  Christian  came,  which  was  mercifully  rare, 
he  sat  silent  for  the  most  part  with  the  countryman's 
utter  disregard  of  time.  For  the  rest,  I  received 
few  letters  and  was  let  alone  by  my  small  world. 
Meanwhile,  I  got  Dodo  to  blaze  two  or  three  path 
trails  through  the  woods  and,  thus  assured  of  safety, 
I  wandered  daily,  taking  note  of  the  flowers  of  June. 
One  or  two  of  these  lonely  walks  were  memorable. 
On  June  twelfth  I  remembered  that,  as  Mrs.  Chris 
tian  reminded  me,  I  had  never  yet  seen  the  great 
spring.  I  set  out  to  find  it.  I  knew  now  that  I 
had  only  to  follow  the  brook  to  its  main  source. 
I  called  Mike  and  went  up  the  stream.  The  brook 
seemed  to  have  no  mind  to  go  straight  to  its  ocean 
home.  Why  it  wandered,  like  Mike,  in  this  loafing, 
leisurely  way,  was  not  plain  to  me.  It  had  no  name, 
by  good  luck,  or  it  might  have  been  labelled  Jones 
Run  or  the  like.  On  my  survey  plan  I  christened 
it  after  a  baby  of  a  river  with  the  nice  Saxon  name 
of  the  Wandle,  found  by  the  happiest  fortune  on  a 


120  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

map  of  England,  I  think  near  Carshalton.  Wandle 
it  was  and  is,  a  hither  and  thither  tramp  on  no  busi 
ness  bent.  It  was  kind  to  me  this  June  morning, 
for  here  was  my  first  sight  of  the  marsh  marigolds. 
They  were  in  little  groups,  gallant,  glorious,  golden, 
in  the  water  or  on  the  margin ;  now  they  were  under 
the  waves  and  tossed  about  and  then  with  quick  up- 
leap  shaking  themselves  free  with  a  look  of  alert 
volition — of  liking  this  pretty  play  of  gay  tussle  with 
their  capturer  of  a  moment. 

I  sat  and  looked  and  at  last  laughed  outright. 
"Were  they  really  marigolds  or  more  happily  merry 
golds?  Who  gave  what  the  botanists  call  the  com 
mon  names  to  the  wild  flowers  ?  What  is  the  history 
of  these  names?  If  they  were  English  peasant 
names,  our  laborer  of  to-day  has  lost  the  poetic  in 
genuity  which  gave  to  England  the  delightful  names 
so  clearly  sweet  to  Shakespeare's  memories  of  his  boy 
hood.  We  have  been  less  happy.  I  recall  only  the 
Quaker  lady  and  then,  alas,  skunk  cabbage  and  fire- 
weed,  golden-rod,  Indian  pipe  and  cat-tails,  perhaps, 
too,  gold  thread,  and  there  may  be  others. 

I  went  on  thinking  and  had  in  a  minute  a  small 
and  very  different  adventure.  I  saw  the  back  of  a 
large  bird's  head  just  over  a  fallen  tree.  It  was  a 
big  hawk  busily  eating,  as  it  proved,  the  young  hare 
he  had  caught.  I  stood  moveless  for  quite  a  minute, 
but  he  must  have  smelled  me,  for  he  could  neither 
have  seen  nor  heard  me.  Of  a  sudden  he  was  up 
and  away,  not  in  a  lateral  flight  but,  to  my  amaze- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  121 

ment,  in  a  straight,  directly  perpendicular  rise  of  such 
power  as  broke  leaves  and  twigs  from  the  trees  over 
head.  How  he  effected  this  I  could  not  then  or  later 
understand,  but  I  have  since  learned  that  this  is 
still  a  puzzle  to  the  students  of  bird  flight.  No  doubt 
he  returned  to  his  disturbed  dinner. 

A  little  further,  I  came  to  a  wide,  treeless  space 
of  granite  rock  strewn  with  broken  shells  of  mussels. 
Tom  Dagett  told  me  that  the  gulls  carry  inland  the 
shells  from  the  flats  and,  he  says,  let  them  fall  so 
as  to  break  the  shell  and  free  its  edible  contents. 
Dodo  declares  they  sit  on  the  trees  and  crack  the 
shells,  eat  the  inside  and  let  the  shell  fall.  As  I 
found  shells  in  the  wood  where  were  no  rocks,  this 
is  my  own  conclusion. 

The  brook,  fed  by  several  tribute  rills,  grew  smaller 
as  I  followed  it,  and  by  and  by  I  came  to  a  part  of 
my  property  which  was  new  to  me.  The  ground  rose 
sharply  to  northwest  in  an  upreared  ridge  of  gran 
ite  perhaps  some  eighty  feet  high.  The  stream  clung 
to  the  base  of  this  rock  boundary  for  a  hundred  feet. 
Here  in  some  vast  throe  of  our  much  mauled  earth,  a 
granite  dyke  had  fallen  in  huge  blocks  on  the  brook, 
quite  hiding  it,  so  that  I  mistook  its  emergence  for 
the  parent  source  I  was  in  search  of.  Climbing  up 
and  over  the  wreckage  with  Mike  ahead  of  me,  I 
scrambled  on,  hearing  the  hidden  brook  beneath  me. 
Then  I  came  out  on  a  higher  rock  and  saw  below 
me  a  moss-fringed  pool  and  on  the  further  side  two 
great  rocks  with  black  and  orange  lichens  and  above 


122  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

luxuriant  growth  of  ferns.  From  the  cleft  between 
the  granite  masses  leapt  out  into  the  sun  a  great 
rush  of  water.  I  had  found  the  source. 

Beside  the  spring  sat  a  man.  His  bare  head  bent 
down  rested  on  his  hands,  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 
He  was,  I  thought,  in  fact,  I  heard  him,  praying  aloud. 
It  was  Hapworth.  The  man  was  plainly  in  the  grip  of 
some  overwhelming  anguish.  I  was  quietly  retreating 
when  I  heard  Mike,  barking  a  noisy  greeting.  I 
waited  a  minute  or  two  so  as  to  give  the  man 
assurance  that  he  had  not  been  overheard.  Then 
ceasing  to  hear  him  I  returned  to  the  top  of  the 
rock. 

As  I  appeared,  he  had  risen  and  was  making 
friends  with  Mike.  He  said,  "Be  careful  how  you 
come  down  the  rocks.  There  is  one  rock,  that  one 
with  the  ferns,  so  balanced  that  it  moves  with  a  man 'a 
weight. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  and  in  a  minute  was  beside 
him.  "Thanks  for  the  warning.  This  is  my  first 
visit  to  the  spring.  I  had  no  idea  of  its  beauty  or 
I  should  have  been  here  long  ago.  You  were  frank 
enough  to  say  you  like  to  be  alone  and  as  I  find  you 
in  possession,  I  shall  leave  you  with  your  nine-tenths 
of  the  law." 

My  hermit  tenant  laughed  outright  and  checked 
his  mirth  abruptly,  as  if  it  had  not  his  self-approval. 
The  change  to  gravity  was  to  me  unnatural.  He 
said,  "Ah,  Mr.  Sherwood,  you  are  after  all  the  owner 
of  this  wonderful  gift  of  earth. ' ' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  123 

"I,  indeed?  Who  can  be  said  to  truly  own  a 
spring  like  this?  It  is,"  I  smiled,  " somewhat  of  a 
squatter  on  my  land  and  off  and  away  to  the  sea, 
with  a  wanderlust,  and  no  more  rent  to  pay  than  a 
cup  of  water. ' ' 

"May  I  offer  you  some?"  he  said.  "I  left  a  tin 
cup  here." 

"How  it  sparkles!  Thanks.  It  is  delicious  and 
cold." 

"About  forty-five  degrees,"  he  returned.  "To 
the  southward  the  springs  are  not  below  fifty-two 
degrees  or  so  I  have  read.  It  has  a  good  deal  of 
gas,  as  you  may  notice,  carbonic  acid,  I  suppose." 

"But  where  does  it  get  it?"  I  queried.  "Not 
from  these  hard  granites?" 

"Yes,  they  all  contain  some  carbonate  of  lime." 

"I  see.  But  these  rocks  can  not  be  the  sources 
of  this  great  constant  volume  of  water. ' ' 

"I  suppose  not,  but  although  they  seem  quite  im 
permeable,  they  must  be  one  of  the  storehouses  of 
the  rain,  for  a  cubic  yard  of  granite  weighing  two 
tons  contains  three  and  a  half  gallons  of  water  and  can 
absorb  a  gallon  more.  There  are  also  in  the  micro 
scopic  cavities  various  gases,  notably,  carbon  diox 
ide.  "  This  time  he  used  the  modern  chemist's  name 
for  what  is  popularly  carbonic  acid.  In  his  interest 
he  seemed  to  have  lost  his  look  of  melancholy  and 
a  way  I  had  noticed  of  glancing  about  him  like  a 
person  in  dread  of  something. 

Now,  as  I  pleasantly  acknowledged  my  gratified 


124  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

curiosity,  I  saw  him  turn  once  more  and  look  behind 
him.  I  was  quick  to  see  and  to  re-awaken  his  interest. 

"But  how,"  I  asked,  "can  this  granite  so  feed 
this  great  overflow?  Can  it  have  another  parent 
supply  ? ' ' 

"Who  can  say?  No  one,  I  believe,  suspects  that 
water  is  ever  formed  in  the  earth.  It  may  be, — it 
may  be  in  some  far  hidden  laboratory." 

"A  curious  thought,"  I  said.  "The  granite  sur 
faces  must  take  in  rain  water  and  it  may  soak  in 
we  know  not  how  far  and  yield  it  by  evaporation  in 
dry  weather.  If  it  somewhere  releases  this  gathered 
fluid  under  ground  may  be  a  question. ' ' 

"I  think  you  put  it  well,  Mr.  Sherwood,  but  these 
granites  are  of  unknown  depth  and  this,  like  other 
springs,  may  come  from  some  far  distant  part  of 
the  under  earth." 

He  was  again  the  natural,  well-mannered  gentle 
man,  charmed  out  of  his  mood  by  the  claim  our  talk 
was  making  upon  an  educated  intellect. 

I  repeated  his  words,  "the  under  earth,"  adding, 
"That  makes  one  think  of  far  hidden  darkness,  of 
great  caverns  of  water,  of  rivers  in  your  under 
earth,  of  the  flowing  to  and  fro  of  a  great  complex 
ity  of  little  water  courses  ever  moving  like  the  cir 
culation  of  some  monster;  and  then  somewhere  the 
children  of  earth-darkness  burst  out  into  the  sun 
shine  and  bid  us  be  glad  with  them  but  tell  no  stories 
of  that  under- world. "  I  ceased,  a  little  surprised  at 
my  own  way  of  putting  a  simple  matter. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  125 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sherwood,"  said  my  companion,  "you 
have  what  I  lack  and  envy,  the  gift  of  wholesome 
imagination. ' ' 

"I,  of  all  men,"  I  laughed  outright.  "I  wonder 
what  my  older  business  friends  would  say  if  anyone 
were  to  put  that  talent  to  my  credit." 

"It  may  have  been  a  long-buried  talent." 

"Perhaps,"  I  said.  "I  am  learning  many  things 
about  myself  since  I  came  to  this  wild  country." 

"I  have  learned  nothing  and  lost  nothing,"  said 
Hapworth  shortly.  "Good-bye.  I  must  go.  I  leave 
you  a  gayer  companion,  your  spring." 

He  picked  up  his  book  and  with  no  more  words 
disappeared  into  the  forest. 

I  too  walked  away  and  accompanied  the  brook  sea 
ward.  "Very  soon  I  must  hear  from  Euphemia  and 
then  shall  know  whether  this  lonely,  troubled  man 
were  better  let  alone  or  could  be  helped  by  me,  or 
whether  after  all  I  need  to  bother  myself  at  all  about 
this  neighbor? 


A  FEW  days  later  Mrs.  Christian  made  one  of 
her  rare  visits  and  told  me  an  amazing  story. 

She  had  persuaded  Cairns  to  visit  me  and  to  make 

sure  called  for  him  and  set  out  with  him  through 

the  woods. 
At  this  time,  it  being  near  to  sundown  and  the 

west  a  wonder  of  opalescent  colors,  I  ordered  tea  on 

the  rock.    Mrs.  Christian  settled  herself  for  the  talk 

she  enjoyed. 

"Dear  me,  but  that  tea  is  good." 

"Well,"  I  asked,  "what  of  Cairns?" 

"That  man,  you  won't  believe  it.     He  just  stopped 

short  at  the  big  spruce  and  said  he  couldn't  stand 

it  and  with  that,  he  went  home  again." 
"Is  he  afraid  of  me  or  what  is  it?" 
"No,  he  don't  want  to  see  you  or  anybody." 
"Does  he  pay  rent?     It  is  of  no  moment,  but  I 

want  to  know." 

She   laughed.    "He   cuts   firewood   for   Jones.     I 

suppose  Jones  pays  you  the  cost,  or  don't.    A  bit 

mixed  up,  isn't  it?" 

I  agreed  with  her.     "He  doesn't,"  I  said,   and 

asked  if  she  knew  what  was  the  matter  with  Cairns. 
Upon  this  she  sat  still  in  evident  hesitation  and 
126 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  127 

then  said,  ''If  I  was  to  have  another  cup  of  that  tea,  I 
might  get  courage  to  tell  you  about  that  man." 

The  tea  was  duly  served  and  I  said,  "Dodo  has 
ready  a  pound  of  it  for  you  to  take  home.  Now, 
about  Cairns?  Come  for  more  when  it  's  out." 

"Oh,  thank  you!  Well,  there  isn't  anything  so 
very  bad,  and  yet  there  is  and  the  fact  is,  I  'm 
ashamed  for  him  and  right  sorry,  too." 

"Then  let  us  drop  it." 

"But  I  can't — I  can't — you  Ve  got  a  right  to 
know.  Here  you  come  and  find  a  lot  of  people  in 
your  woods  and  you  give  them  land  and  buy  a  boat 
for  Tom  Dagett  and  want  to  help  everybody  and 
lend  me  books.  Why,  you  're  just  an  angel — oh,  you 
are !  Think  of  Jones  telling  us  you  'd  be  a  hard 
land  owner." 

"He  may  have  believed  it." 

"Indeed,  and  now  this  poor  creature  Cairns  be 
having  this  way  to  you.  I  'm  right  grieved  for  him, 
I  am.  He  's  got  a  share  of  what  sorrow  I  have  to 
spare  for  misfortuned  people.  But  it  's  getting  late 
and  I  must  go." 

"Not  till  I  hear  your  story.  Dodo  will  take  a 
lantern  and  see  you  safely  home. ' ' 

' '  Well — well — it  is  n  't  short  and  my  man  '11  be 
right  anxious.  I  don't  so  much  mind  that.  It  does 
men  good  now  and  then  to  be  a  bit  anxious." 

It  was  now  the  dusk  of  twilight  as  I  sat  and 
smoked  and,  looking  over  the  slowly  darkening  sea, 
heard  Mrs.  Christian  tell  all  she  knew  about  Cairns. 


128  .  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"He  was  a  Belport  boy,  Mr.  Sherwood,  and  a 
right  merry,  pleasant-mannered  young  man.  He 
was  at  college  when  the  war  broke  out,  couldn't 
have  been  over  fifteen,  and  was  going  to  study  law. 
You  see  he  was  an  orphan  and  lived  with  John 
Cairns.  That  was  the  judge,  his  uncle.  He  's  dead 
now. 

"Well,  this  nephew  went  to  the  war  near  to  the 
end  of  it.  He  was  a  private  in  a  company  where 
our  Major  Browne  was  captain.  I  guess  these  boys 
north  and  south  lightlied  this  war  business.  Once 
in,  there  's  no  decent  way  out.  My  John  he  was  in 
it  at  the  close  when  it  fell  to  be  in  need  of  men. 
He  doesn't  incline  to  talk  about  it." 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  that,  Mrs.  Christian.  We 
paid  a  great  price  for  a  precious  thing.  But  go  on. ' ' 

"Well,  sir,  what  was  left  of  Company  K  came 
back  and  of  course  there  was  a  fuss  over  them. 
Before  this  people  must  have  heard  something,  be 
cause  you  see  there  were  letters.  The  others  of  the 
company  were  shy  of  Bob  Cairns  and  by  degrees  it  got 
out.  The  man  was  a  coward.  He  just  wilted  like 
with  fear  the  first  time  he  was  under  fire.  Then  he 
was  always  sick  when  there  was  to  be  a  fight.  It  must 
have  been  awful  bad  at  last,  because  the  day  his 
company  marched  in,  they  wouldn't  have  Bob  with 
them. 

"  So  it  all  got  out.  He  was  just  made  to  feel  it,  all 
round.  You  know  in  a  little  town,  sir,  nothing  never 
gets  forgotten.  At  last  the  judge  had  it  all  out  of 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  129 

Major  Browne  and  Mr.  Grice,  the  editor.  They  do 
say  it  killed  the  old  man,  but  not  before  he  had  time 
to  change  his  will.  He  left  Bob  one  hundred  dollars 
a  year  and  all  the  rest  of  his  money  to  the  town. 

"Bob  stood  it  out  for  some  years  and  I  guess  took  to 
liquor.  I  don 't  wonder  at  that.  At  last  he  went  away 
for  a  year  and  then  when  he  came  back,  Jones  told 
him,  they  do  say,  that  if  he  'd  keep  Jones  in  wood, 
he  might  bide  here.  His  uncle  did  leave  him  his  books 
and  now  for  years  he  just  cuts  wood  and  reads  and 
never  goes  to  Belport.  He  's  what  Mr.  Hapworth  calls 
a  soul  cripple.  That  's  about  all  I  know  of  it.  Is  n  't 
it  awful?" 

"A  very  sad  story. " 

"Oh,  it  's  worse  than  sad.  The  women  were  the 
hardest.  A  girl  he  was  in  love  with  just  broke  it 
off  sharp." 

"Would  you  have  done  that?"  I  asked,  curious. 

"I  don't  know.  I  think  women  do  scorn  a  coward 
worse  than  men  do.  My  old  man  will  never  give 
me  that  trial.  Seems  to  me  I  must  be  going.  Worst 
of  it  is  that  Bob  Cairns  is  a  honest  and  right  capable 
man  and  now  he  's  just  wasted,  and  a  fellow  like  Jones 
having  all  the  best  chances !  Good  night. ' ' 

I  watched  them  pass  into  the  wood  until  Dodo's 
lantern  was  lost  to  sight.  I  went  back  to  the  rock 
with  another  subject  for  thought,  courage.  My  own 
had  never  once  been  tested.  The  events  of  the  next 
day  put  it  all  out  of  mind  for  the  time,  but  I  began 
to  think  I  might  do  something  to  help  Cairns. 


130  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

When  Dodo  came  back  and  got  my  dinner  ready 
he  guessed  we  would  have  another  big  blow.  My 
barometer  was  of  the  same  opinion,  but  I  had  become 
used  to  storms  and  after  making  some  notes  went  to 
bed.  I  was  aroused  by  the  noise  of  the  surf  and 
the  wind.  When  again  I  awakened  near  to  dawn 
it  was  to  find  myself  in  the  open  air,  shelterless. 
Two  of  the  tents  were  lodged  in  the  wood.  I  leaped 
out  of  bed  and  found  Dodo  at  my  side.  My  old 
red  oak  was  swaying  dangerously  in  the  blast,  but 
escaped  with  a  few  broken  branches.  Two  great 
pines  to  the  left  had  gone  down  in  ruin. 

As  the  spray  was  flying  high  in  air,  we  set  to  work 
to  shelter  my  books  in  the  only  remaining  tent,  which 
we  made  secure,  and  still  the  wind  increased  in  vio 
lence.  It  was  in  fact  a  new  experience.  The  catboat, 
sheltered  by  the  island  and  ledge,  rode  it  out  bravely, 
but  the  canoe  was  in  fragments  on  the  beach.  Tom 
Dagett  appeared  about  seven,  anxious,  and  with  some 
trouble  we  set  up  the  recovered  tents  and  at  last  went 
to  the  kitchen  for  shelter. 

"These  there  dry  blows,"  said  Tom,  "without  rain 
is  the  worst,  but  this  is  the  biggest  since  the  big  blow 
in  1845.  Even  the  fish  could  n  't  stand  that.  Lots  of 
them  was  just  pitched  up  among  the  woods,  so  my 
mother  said.  The  gulls  was  blowed  miles  away  in 
land,  up  on  the  hills." 

The  charging  waves  left  no  beach,  the  wood  was 
groaning  and  perilous  from  falling  branches  and  I 
persuaded  Tom  to  stay  with  me  all  day,  He  was 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  131 

more  silent  than  usual,  but  swore  as  his  lobster  pots 
rolled  in  breaking  on  the  rocks. 

"Oh,  Lord!  To  see  them,  Mr.  Sherwood,  kind  of 
shakes  a  man's  faith  in  Providence. " 

"And  my  canoe,  Tom.     Look  at  it." 

"It  's  bad,  sir,  awful.  I  hate  to  see  a  boat  battered 
that  way.  It  's  a  so  derned  alive  kind  of  a  thing." 

It  was  like  the  feeling  I  used  to  have  about  the 
wreckage  of  my  machines.  Certain  things  in  one's 
use  do  get  what  I  concluded  to  describe  to  myself 
as  de-materialized;  but  by  noon  the  wind  lessened 
and  I  sent  Dodo  to  see  how  my  tenants  had  fared. 
My  fears  for  them  were  justified  when  he  came  home 
and  told  me  that  Hap  worth's  roof  had  been  torn  off 
and  lay  on  the  road,  and  Cairns'  cabin  was  much 
damaged. 

I  let  him  alone,  but  I  wrote  to  Hapworth: 

Dear  Sir: 

I  have  asked  Christian  to  go  to  Belport  and  get  men  to 
replace  your  roof.  Meanwhile  I  offer  you  the  hospitality 
of  a  tent  and  no  more  of  my  company  than  you  may  in  all 
honesty  desire.  Dodo  will  carry  hither  whatever  you  may 
need.  You  will  be  most  welcome. 

Yours  truly, 

Camp  Retreat.  JOHN  SHERWOOD. 

Dodo  hurried  home  with  his  answer: 
Dear  Sir: 

I  can  not  sleep  out  of  doors.  I  would,  but  I  can  not. 
Unless  I  share  the  crowded  quarters  of  my  good  neighbor 


132  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Christian,  I  must  of  necessity  break  a  self-imposed  rule 
and  accept  your  kindness.  I  do  it  the  more  willingly  be 
cause  you  are  to  me  an  entire  stranger. 

Yours  truly, 

JAMES  HAPWORTH. 

I  asked  Dodo  to  set  up  a  tent  and  arrange  bedding, 
etc.  I  put  books  and  writing  material  on  my  guest's 
table  and  then  reread  this  very  singular  letter.  Cer 
tainly  it  was  ungracious  and  "not  sleep  out  of  doors" 
in  the  open,  why  not?  The  weather  was  now  good. 
A  few  days  later  I  might  have  hesitated  in  my  too 
ready  inclination  to  be  helpfully  hospitable. 

About  seven  toward  the  dusk  of  this  fourteenth 
day  of  June,  my  guest  arrived.  He  made  a  great 
effort,  as  I  saw,  to  be  at  his  ease  and  to  appear 
thankful.  I,  in  turn,  was  formally  courteous  and, 
showing  him  his  tent,  left  him.  In  an  hour  one  of 
Dodo's  best  dinners  was  on  table  and  I  made  an 
effort  to  keep  the  talk  on  to  the  storm  and  its  hap 
penings,  but  there  were  long  pauses  I  vainly  tried 
to  fill  with  talk  trifles. 

At  last,  as  we  rose,  he  said,  "You  must  pardon 
my  silences.  I  have  lost  these  two  years  the  habit  of 
talk." 

"Be  silent,"  I  said  gaily,  "or  talk  as  pleases  you. 
I  too  fled  from  social  life,  being  a  sick  animal.  We 
will  each  respect  the  other's  wish  for  mental  loneli 
ness.  The  wind  is  over.  Come  out  to  the  rock.  You 
smoke?" 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  133 

"I  do,  my  pipe,  I  prefer  that.  It  is  more  like  a 
companion  than  the  cigar.  The  cigar  is  only  an 
acquaintance,  but  the  pipe  is  a  friend,  sometimes  the 
only  friend." 

Knowing  his  desire  to  be  silently  companioned,  I 
sat  and  smoked  for  a  long  time  without  a  word. 

At  last  he  said,  "Do  you  like  this  clamor  of  the 
ocean  ?" 

"Yes,  and  the  wind  in  the  woods." 

"Oh,  not  that,  not  that.  Sometimes  it  is  too  like 
the  cry  of  a  soul  in  distress." 

"Are  we  not  apt  to  interpret  these  voices  of  na 
ture  as  our  own  moods  determine?" 

"Ah!  but  a  life-long  mood!" 

"That,"  I  returned,  "would  be  morbid." 

"Then  I  am  morbid,"  he  said.  "It  may  be  the 
retribution  for  sin  to  have  blotted  out  of  nature  all 
gladness,  all  pleasure,  like  estrangement  from  a 
friend." 

"I  do  not  see  that  as  possible." 

"You  are  fortunate.  Pray  God  you  never  may 
find  it  possible.  It  is  early,  but  with  your  permis 
sion  I  will  go  to  bed.  I  am  tired.  I  promise  to 
make  believe  a  little  while  I  am  your  guest.  I  have 
been  talking  of  myself  to  ,my  astonishment.  But  I 
promise  to  do  it  no  more.  Good  night,  and  pleasant 
dreams,  or  better,  none." 

Three  more  days  went  by,  a  new  canoe  was  or 
dered  and  meanwhile  Dodo  borrowed  a  small  dory 


134  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

from  Tom,  as  it  was  desirable  to  have  a  small  boat 
in  tow  of  the  catboat  for  landings.  The  sailboat 
was  easily  put  in  order,  having  suffered  little. 

I  learned  from  Christian  that  my  guest's  house 
needed  more  than  a  roof  to  make  it  habitable  and  that 
the  repairs  would  hardly  be  completed  within  a  week 
or  two.  This  promised  a  longer  tax  on  my  hospi 
tality  than  I  had  intended.  What  else  could  I  do 
but  insist  on  his  remaining?  He  spent  most  of  the 
day  in  his  tent,  or  with  a  book  on  the  rocks.  At 
meals,  he  said  little,  but  although  very  dejected  early 
in  the  day  he  was  almost  cheerful  after  six  or  seven 
p.  M.,  and  at  times  talked  freely  of  books  and  travel. 
A  sudden  anxious  look  about  him  and  a  long  silence 
were  apt  to  follow.  He  might  then  rise  quickly  and 
go  out  of  the  tent  and  return  with  some  excusing 
statement  about  a  look  at  the  weather. 

As  a  guest  he  gave  me  no  trouble,  being  absent  in 
the  woods  for  half  the  day,  but  to  my  surprise,  he 
never  seemed  to  concern  himself  about  the  house  I 
was  having  repaired  and  for  which  I  was  paying. 
My  shrewd  neighbor,  Mrs.  Christian,  spoke  of  this  to 
me  one  day  when  I  sought  to  know  something  more 
of  a  man  whom  I  began  to  regard  as  at  times  uncom 
fortably  beyond  the  boundaries  of  mere  eccentricity. 

* '  I  suppose, ' '  she  said, '  *  Mr.  Hap  worth  will  be  going 
home?  You  've  gone  and  done  a  heap  for  him. 
Does  he  ever  mind  to  thank  you?" 

1  'Oh,  enough,"  I  said,  "quite  enough." 

"I  Ve  done  no  end  of  chores  for  him  and  at  last 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  135 

my  man  got  the  better  of  his  lazy  tongue  and  says, 
1  Seems  to  me,  Hap  worth,  you  just  take  things  and 
never  give  so  much  as  a  word/ 

"Then  I  put  in  and  says,  'Mr.  Hap  worth  does  for 
us  more  than  we  do  for  him/  which  is  true.  Peter 
just  growled,  'Maybe/  and  Mr.  Hapworth  he  said 
a  queer  thing." 

"Well?" 

"  'Oh/  he  says,  'Peter  Christian,  silence  is  the  best 
thanks.  You  can't  ever  proportion  thanks.  Best 
not  to  give  any.'  I  didn't  get  that  clear,  but  my 
Peter  says,  *  I  'd  like  to  conduct  business  on  that  there 
basis/  Now  it  was  queer,  but  Hapworth  's  like  that. 
Fact  is,  he  's  kind  of  unexpectable. " 

I  laughed  and  said,  "I  prefer  to  thank  when  I  get 
things,  but  not  to  be  thanked  when  I  give. ' ' 

"I  know,  sir,  but  you  like  to  think  the  thanks 
are  somewhere."  This  was  like  her,  and  true. 
"Brought  you  two  punkin  pies.  They  might  go  to 
my  credit  on  the  account  between  you  and  me,"  and 
laughing  merrily,  ' '  Oh,  no  thanks,  please.  About  Mr. 
Hapworth,  sir,  I  gave  up  this  long  time  back.  My 
Susan  says  he  's  a  saint  and  Cairns  says  he  's  too  good 
for  this  earth  and  Peter  says  he  's  a  wise  fool. ' ' 

"And  you?" 

* '  Oh,  I  guess  you  know. ' '  I  did  not,  and  she  went 
away  with  laughter,  with  which  she  was  abundantly 
generous,  being  now  with  me  on  terms  of  easy  inti 
macy.  The  talk  left  me  with  more  than  mirth  and 
with  some  feeling  that  this  capable  woman,  being 


136  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

grateful  to  my  guest,  would  not  express  the  uneasi 
ness  about  him  which  I  believed  she  shared  with  me. 

The  third  day  of  this  week  we  were  sitting  in  my 
tent,  not  long  before  bedtime.  A  neglected  lot  of 
letters  brought  from  Belport  by  Christian  lay  on  a 
table.  Beside  it,  in  an  easy  camp  chair,  Hapworth 
was  reading  Middleton's  Cicero,  the  kind  of  neutral 
book  he  generally  selected  from  my  increasing  store. 

He  laid  the  book  down  and  looking  up  said,  "How 
simple,  what  an  everyday  familiar  matter  suicide  or  in 
fact  death  must  have  seemed  to  the  pagans.  Was  it 
that  they  had  no  real  belief  in  a  hereafter,  in  any 
after,  or  a  perfect  belief  in  another  and  less  uneasy 
world?" 

I  did  not  know  enough  of  what  the  cultured  Ro 
mans  believed  to  answer  him  and  frankly  confessed 
ignorance,  but  was  sure  the  upper  class  of  Romans 
feared  death  less  than  does  the  average  man  of  our  own 
day.  And  after  all,  I  continued,  as  it  is  as  natural 
as  birth,  why  dread  it?  I  knew  that  I  had  not 
feared  it,  but  had  greatly  feared  one  mode  of  its  ap 
proach. 

Hapworth  said,  "As  to  birth,  we  have  no  choice,  or 
none  we  now  remember,"  and  then,  with  a  pause, 
"As  to  death  we  have  more  or  less  of  a  lifetime  to 
think  of  it,  but  until  the  priest  surrounded  it  with 
fear,  men  seem  to  have  regarded  it  with  little  of  the 
terror  they  have  of  it  to-day.  I  do  not  fear  it  and 
indeed  I  should  welcome  it.  I  am  of  opinion  that 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  137 

self -destruction  ought  to  be  made  legally  possible,  con 
sidered  by  a  Court  and  authorized." 

' '  Or  not, ' '  I  returned.     ' '  If  not,  what  then  ? ' ' 

"In  the  first  case  the  man  would  be  honorably  dis 
missed  from  life.  *  In  the  second,  if  he  killed  himself 
he  would  forfeit  money  deposited  with  the  Court." 
This  he  said  with  gravity. 

I  looked  at  him,  amazed.  "But,"  I  said,  "what 
would  a  suicide  care  about  money?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  singular  simplicity,  "that 
did  not  occur  to  me.  But  after  all  it  is  not  quite 
sure  that  we  cannot  take  money  and  its  influences  to 
the  death  world.  There  is  a  way." 

My  exclamation  and  look  of  too-astonished  interest 
seemed  to  arrest  this  revelation.  He  said,  "Another 
time;  not  now.  My  views  on  suicide  are  quite 
rational,  as  defensible  as  Donnes'.  I  can  lend  you 
his  book." 

I  did  not  like  the  trend  of  his  talk.  I  had  watched 
him  of  late  with  increasing  belief  that  when  at  night 
he  stood  with  me  on  the  rock,  talking  visibly  but  not 
audibly,  he  was  facing  the  temptation  to  end  a  life 
of,  to  me,  mysteriously  complete  unhappiness.  Once 
he  had  said  how  easy  it  would  be.  Now  I  spoke  out, 
being  more  and  more  disturbed. 

"Mr.  Hapworth,"  I  said,  "in  self-defense  I  am 
about  to  take  a  great  liberty.  You  have  had  it  in 
mind  to  kill  yourself.  To  do  so  here  would  be  for 
me  a  calamity  and  would  destroy  for  me  the  pleasure 


138  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

of  a  home  which  has  brought  me  health,  hope  and 
much  more.  You  have  no  right  to  do  this  thing." 

He  made  a  frank  reply.  ''Yes,  I  have  long  been 
so  tempted.  To  do  it  here  would  be  ungrateful,  a 
piece  of  bad  manners.  I  had  the  temptation,  but  have 
it  no  longer.  I  have  reached  a  decision  of  late  which 
relieves  me  of  the  responsibility  of  ending  my  life. 
What  it  is,  I  beg  you  will  not  ask  me." 

11  Certainly  not.  Let  us  drop  this  subject.  You 
-have  very  greatly  reassured  me.  May  I  add  that  you 
have  been  no  unwelcome  guest." 

1  'Thank  you.  I  fear  that  I  may  not  have  been  just 
what  a  guest  should  be."  For  a  moment  he  was  si 
lent  and  then  returned  to  his  book,  while  I  began 
to  open  my  letters.  Here  at  last  was  Euphemia's 
reply. 

My  dear  John: 

Why  you  want  to  hear  about  this  Mr.  Norman,  I  am 
rather  curious  to  know.  It  was  enough  for  me  at  first 
that  you  desire  the  information  I  find  myself  at  last  able 
to  give. 

The  Norman  family  came  from  Canada  long  ago  to 
Maryland.  (This  explained  to  me  the  use  of  the  sur 
name  Benedict.  Here  with  us,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  never 
given  to  a  child.)  Mr.  Norman  left  the  charge  he  had 
near  your  works  to  take  a  church  in  Baltimore.  Some 
time  later — I  cannot  get  the  dates,  he  married  in  Italy, 
Miss  Maynard,  a  very  charming-  Maryland  woman.  She 
seems  to  have  had  moderate  means.  He  inherited  before 
marriage  a  considerable  property.  I  ought  to  have  said 
that  I  knew  Miss  Maynard's  mother. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  139 

Soon  after  their  marriage,  he  began  to  exhibit  causeless 
jealousy  in  regard  to  his  wife  and  at  last  threatened  to  kill 
her.  At  this  time  also  he  sold  some  of  his  stocks  and 
placed  the  money,  about  twelve  thousand  dollars,  as  was 
learned  later,  in  the  village  bank  near  your  works.  At 
last  he  did  fire  at  his  wife.  She  was  unhurt,  and  he  fled. 
He  was  caught  a  little  later  and,  her  friends  intervening, 
he  was  with  his  wife's  consent,  put  in  an  asylum. 

It  is  a  strange  story  and  this  the  strangest  part.  He 
became  worse,  told  everyone  calmly  that  he  had  killed  his 
wife  and  still  was  in  constant  fear  of  arrest.  It  was,  it 
seems,  thought  well  to  let  him  see  his  wife.  When  she 
appeared,  he  cried  out  that  she  was  dead  and  fell  fainting 
or  in  some  kind  of  convulsion.  It  only  deepened  his  de 
lusion.  He  never  did  see  her  again. 

A  few  days  later  he  escaped  from  the  asylum.  It  was 
found  that  he  had  gone  at  once  to  Millwood,  his  old  home, 
and  there  drawn  from  the  bank  the  money  he  had  deposited. 
Then  he  disappeared  and  now  for  two  years  has  been  looked 
for  in  vain.  His  wife  has  come  at  last  to  believe  him  dead. 
I  learned  all  about  him  from  a  Baltimore  woman,  Mrs. 
Howard,  a  distant  relation  of  the  Maynards.  This  is  all, 
but  it  is,  I  am  sure,  entirely  correct.  If  he  had  been  really 
a  priest  this  kind  of  thing  could  not  have  happened. 

This  was  so  like  Euphemia  that,  despite  the  near 
neighborhood  of  tragedy,  I  broke  into  laughter. 

My  guest  looked  up  from  his  book  and  said 
quietly,  "Is  the  cause  of  laughter  one  to  be 
shared?" 

"Heavens!"  I  exclaimed  inwardly,  "to  think  of 
it,  of  this  man  asking  questions  about  himself ! ' ' 


140  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

''No,  no,"  I  said,  "what  is  a  joke  for  one  is  not 
always  a  joke  for  two." 

"Ah,  I  beg  pardon.  Until  of  late,  all  my  curi 
osity  concerning  the  less  or  even  the  larger  things 
of  life  has  ceased  to  exist." 

"And  now  you  are  changing?" 

"Yes,  since  I  made  the  decision  on  which  I  shall 
act,  I  am  changing.  Does  a  man  ever  know  himself? 
I  seem  to  be  like  one  being  watching  another's  change. 
I  am  full  of  self -surprises.  To  know  yourself  is  im 
possible.  I  am  one  man  to-day — another  man  to-mor- 


i  i  • 


I  too  am  changing,  Mr.  Hapworth.  Let  us 
hope,"  I  spoke  gravely,  "that  it  is  for  both  of  us  well 
to  change."  That  I,  of  all  men,  should  talk  in  this 
way  to  a  stranger,  seemed  to  me  almost  with  the 
spoken  word,  a  quite  self -amazing  thing. 

My  singular  guest  returned  again  to  his  book  and  I 
to  my  cousin's  letter.  The  postscript  announced  the 
forwarding  of  two  pair  of  high  stockings,  knit  by 
herself,  very  useful  but,  and  I  glanced  over  the  top 
of  the  letter  I  had  now  read  again  with  care,  what 
a  mingling  of  the  trivial  and  tragic.  What  a  pleas 
ing  situation  for  a  man  flying  from  responsibility, 
from  cares,  from  the  need  of  decisions.  I  was  in 
the  trap  of  that  troubling  thing,  my  duty  to  this, 
my  neighbor.  Ignore  it?  At  one  time  I  would  have 
done  so,  but  now  in  the  clutch  of  this  trap,  how 
to  get  out  of  it  I  did  not  comprehend.  I  longed  to 
question  him. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  141 

The  white  canvas  interior  I  see  as  I  write,  the 
man  intent  on  his  book,  for  me  strangely  intent,  con 
sidering  our  talk.  The  noise  of  the  brook  came  and 
was  gone  and  came  again  in  the  freakish  way  of  night 
noises.  The  ocean  drummed  on  the  rocks,  one  un 
changing  rhythm. 

I  slowly  folded  this  fateful  letter,  replaced  it  in 
the  envelope  and  sat  still,  asking  myself  what  I  must 
decide.  Here  was  I  in  the  possession  of  facts  long 
sought  for  by  every  resource  love  and  money  could 
command.  I  had  now  up  to  the  hour  this  man 's  story, 
both  halves  of  it.  Was  he  still  under  the  delusion 
that  he  had  murdered  the  woman  he  once  loved  ?  His 
acts  had  shown  the  cunning  of  the  insane  and  under 
the  belief  that  he  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
law,  he  had  fled,  pursued  by  such  anguish  of  terror 
as  is  beyond  the  conceivable  reach  of  the  sane  mind. 
What  now  was  this  decision  in  which  he  found  relief  ? 
And  there  too  was  the  woman  waiting  with  her  wan 
ing  hope.  The  man  was  indeed  changing.  That  was 
obvious,  but  if  for  the  better  or  the  worse,  I  could 
not  always  be  sure.  He  must  have  had  or  believed  he 
had,  a  reason  for  the  act  he  presumed  himself  to  have 
committed. 

Whether  I  liked  it  or  not  the  action  to  be  taken, 
and  action  there  must  be,  lay  with  me.  I  rose  and 
went  out  on  the  rock  with  a  pipe  for  counsellor.  For 
an  hour  I  walked  to  and  fro,  vainly  turning  over 
in  my  mind  what  to  do.  I  went  back  to  the  tent 
and  found  that  my  guest  had  gone  to  bed.  That 


142  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

wise  prce  dormitium  presented  me  with  no  decisive 
advice  and  I  passed  an  unpleasant  night. 

The  morning  brought  me  no  counsel  that  seemed  to 
me  prudent  to  act  upon.  I  had  never  been  indecisive 
but  here  was  a  case  of  urgent  responsibility,  with 
perhaps  need  to  act  and  any  long  delay  possibly  peril 
ous.  I  was  glad  to  excuse  myself  from  taking  at 
once  a  positive  role  in  this  tragic  drama.  The  man 
was  better,  as  even  Dodo  observed.  He  was  less  self- 
absorbed  and  had  twice  expressed  himself  in  a  natural 
way  about  my  hospitality  to  a  stranger.  Every  vis 
ible  gain  in  mental  health  would  make  it  more  possible 
to  be  of  use.  But  after  all,  my  truest  reason  for  delay 
was  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  sorely  needed 
counsel.  Should  I  write  to  his  wife  ?  It  would  bring 
her  hither.  But  what  then? 

After  breakfast,  to  my  surprise,  Hapworth  said, 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day?"  Usually  he 
was  very  melancholy  early  in  the  day  and  retired 
to  his  tent  until  luncheon. 

I  replied,  "I  want  to  see  Tom  Dagett.  Suppose 
we  walk  up  the  beach  to  his  cabin.  Dodo  will  meet 
us  with  the  catboat  and  you  must  sail  with  me,  a 
perfect  day  for  it." 

Hapworth  hesitated.     I  gave  my  orders  to  Dodo. 

' '  Come, ' '  I  said,  and  led  the  way  down  to  and  along 
the  beach.  For  a  while  my  companion  said  nothing. 
This  time  at  least  his  attention  was  on  a  very  ob 
vious  bodily  discomfort. 

"Good  gracious!"  I  exclaimed,  "you  are  wearing 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  143 

moccasins/'  A  mile  on  one  of  these  Maine  beaches 
over  pebbles  large  or  small  is  somewhat  trying  to  a 
man  with  the  best  footgear. 

"Yes,  Cairns  gave  them  to  me.  He  always  wears 
them  and  in  the  woods  they  are  pleasant,  but  here — • 
how  much  more  is  there?  I  do  not  know  this 
coast." 

I  laughed,  not  ill  pleased.  "  About  a  quarter  of 
a  mile.  Consider  it  penance,  part  of  our  Retreat." 

"You  should  have  your  share  then."  He  smiled 
grimly  and  watched  his  feet  and  the  stones. 

"I  am  having  my  penance,"  I  said,  "but  not  in 
your  fashion." 

"How  then? " 

"How?  In  a  Retreat  we  ask  no  questions.  Our 
confessor  may." 

"What  confessor?" 

"The  priest  called  common  sense,  or  if  you  like, 
the  Reverend  Dr.  Conscience.  But  we  agreed  not 
to  be  socially  intimate.  We  settled  that  long  ago. ' ' 

"Yes,  yes.     These  stones  get  worse  and  worse." 

"Penance?  Retreat?"  I  laughed.  "If  you  want 
me  to  use  for  you  any  words  expletory,  I  am  at  your 
service. ' ' 

He  laughed,  "But  there  is  no  such  word." 

"I  offer  then  expletives." 

"That  only  means  superfluous." 

"Thank  you  for  verbal  education,"  I  laughed. 

"No  words  express  the  situation.  The  moccasins 
get  thinner  and  the  stones  too. ' ' 


144  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

" There  are  the  woods,"  I  said,  "but  to  beat  a  re 
treat  and  shirk  penance — Fie,  for  shame." 

He  made  no  reply  but  stumbled  up  the  rocks  and 
kept  on  along  the  edge  of  the  forest,  while  I,  not  at 
all  unhappy  over  the  bodily  distress  of  my  patient, 
held  to  the  beach.  We  came  together  at  Tom's  cabin. 

" Ain't  seen  you  here  before  in  all  these  two  years, 
Mr.  Hap  worth." 

"No,  there  has  been  no  occasion." 

"Well,  maybe  not,  as  long  as  rjohn  Christian 
fetches  your  fish,  but  the  sea  's  fine  company." 

"I  want  none,"  said  Hap  worth  shortly. 

"Well,  now,  that  's  queer  to  me.  The  sea  's  a  good 
friend  and  a  cruel  foe  and  a  fair  good  preacher.  It  's 
father  and  mother-in-law  and  family  too  for  me. 
You  '11  get  to  like  it" 

"He  will,"  I  said.  "He  is  to  have  his  first  sail 
now.  Here  is  the  money  in  this  envelope  for  your 
friend's  boat." 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  said  Tom,  and  we  went  to  the  shore 
where  Dodo  waited  with  the  dory. 

"You  11  have  a  brave  baptizing,"  said  Tom,  "and 
wind  to  spare.  It  's  gettin'  lumpy." 

As  we  approached  the  stern  of  the  catboat,  Hap- 
worth  exclaimed,  "So  you  have  named  it  the  Abbott." 

"Retreat,"  I  said. 

"I  thought  boats  were  always  feminine.  Why  not 
abbess?" 

"An  impropriety.     Do  men  retreat  to  a  nunnery?" 

"  Not  I. "     His  face  became  grave.     "  Not  I. " 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  145 

"Get  in,  "I  said. 

We  were  off  and  away  in  half  a  gale,  I  at  the  helm. 

To  my  surprise,  Hap  worth  cried  out,  "This  is  glo 
rious.  I  never  was  in  a  sailboat  until  now.  What 
life  in  these  leaping  waters,"  he  paused,  "and  death 
so  near. ' ' 

"The  marge  of  perils  sweet,"  I  returned. 

We  were  running  free  before  the  wind  when  Dodo 
said  to  him,  "Take  the  tiller,  sir.  I  11  watch  you." 

"Try  it,"  I  urged. 

"This  is  port  and  this  starboard,"  said  Dodo 
pleased  and  important,  but  watching  him  closely. 
My  guest's  pleasure  was  evident  as  he  felt  his  power 
of  control  over  the  boat. 

To  my  relief  Dodo  soon  took  the  helm  and  ran  in 
under  shelter  of  the  reef.  Hapworth  thanked  me  and 
all  day  was  in  far  better  spirits,  while  I,  alas,  was 
haunted  by  the  terrible  question  my  cousin's  letter 
kept  ever  before  me. 

When  at  bedtime  Hapworth  asked  if  I  meant  to 
sail  to-morrow,  I  said  yes  and  that  we  would  run  to 
Belport,  lunch  and  return. 

He  said,  ' '  I  prefer  not  to  go. ' ' 

"Very  good.  Then  we  will  run  out  to  one  of  the 
islands,  taking  our  lunch  with  us." 

"I  should  like  that.  You  must  think  me  very — 
well — anything  but  civil — yet — no  matter.  Good 
night." 

The  morning  of  the  'June  day  was  warm  and  a 
rising  northwest  wind  set  the  sea  dancing.  When 


146  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

about  ten  we  went  to  the  beach  and  were  about  to 
enter  the  dory  I  heard  voices  and  saw  coming  down 
the  rocks  Mrs.  Christian  and  a  man  I  guessed  to  be 
my  other  tenant,  Cairns.  He  was  a  well-built  man 
over  thirty,  with  a  face  which  was  grave,  even  sombre, 
and  which  remained  at  rest  as  I  said  that  I  was  glad 
to  see  him  and  tried  to  seem  more  than  commonly 
pleased. 

He  returned  very  quietly,  "I  owe  you  an  apology 
for  my  long  delay  in  calling,  but  I  am  somewhat  of  a 
hermit.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  your  agent, 
Mr.  <Jbnes. " 

"He  needs  to  be  talked  to.  I  have  written,  dis 
missing  him.  We  must  not  let  him  spoil  a  perfect 
day.  Come  out  with  me  for  a  sail,  you  and  Mrs. 
Christian,  just  for  two  or  three  hours." 

I  was  sure  I  had  made  the  impression  I  desired  to 
make  when  he  said,  "I  can  not  answer  for  Mrs. 
Christian,  but  I  shall  be  most  glad  to  go." 

His  manner  was  rather  grave,  his  speech,  like  that 
of  many  of  the  men  of  these  shores,  was  low  and 
clear.  I  suspected  that  he  found  it  agreeable  to  be 
among  educated  people  who  were  ignorant  of  his 
sad  defeat  in  life. 

Mrs.  Christian  said,  " Can't  leave  me  out.  Two 
hours,  you  say?" 

"Well,  not  over  three  or  four." 

"Well,  I  'm  going  anyway.  Seems  most  like  a 
holiday." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  147 

We  were  soon  aboard  and  heading  out  to  sea  with 
more  promise  of  wind  than  I  quite  fancied.  Whether 
Hapworth,  as  I  suspected,  was  aware  of  Cairns'  story 
I  did  not  then  know,  but  he  showed  very  clearly  the 
courteous  desire  of  a  gentleman  to  enliven  my  odd 
party  and  for  the  time  no  one  could  have  believed 
that  he  was  the  victim  of  an  insane  delusion. 

Cairns  became  interested  in  my  talk  and  Mrs. 
Christian  delighted  when  Dodo  asked  her  to  aid  in 
cooking  our  lunch  on  the  island. 

The  norther  became  as  usual  boisterous  at  midday 
but  I  felt  no  anxiety  with  Dodo  at  the  helm  and 
the  sail  reefed.  Presently  the  wind  shifting,  we  had 
to  tack  and  were  soon  pretty  wet,  which  my  company 
took  pleasantly  enough.  We  were  now  within  a  half 
mile  of  home  and  with  need  of  care  in  meeting  the 
seas. 

"We  must  tack,  Dodo,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  sir.     Ready  about.     Look  out  for  the  boom." 

If  Hapworth  in  his  ignorance  misunderstood,  I  can 
not  say.  He  rose  as  the  boom  swung  over,  was  struck 
on  the  shoulders,  lost  his  balance  and  fell  overboard 
into  a  wild  sea  of  rolling  billows.  Without  a  word, 
Dodo  put  the  boat  about.  I  saw  Cairns  tear  off  his 
coat,  look  around  him,  and  leap  into  the  ocean.  Dodo 
threw  an  oar  after  him.  I  heard  Mrs.  Christian's 
cry  of  horror  and  caught  sight  of  Cairns  swimming 
strongly.  I  got  too  a  moment's  impression  of  Hap 
worth  and  then  no  more. 


143  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Dodo  stood  up.  "Next  tack,  sir,  may  fetch  them. 
Now  then,  about.  Take  the  helm,  sir.  Keep  her 
full,  so!" 

The  spray  was  flying.  I  could  see  little  or  noth 
ing. 

"Steady,  sir.  Now,  quick,  put  her  into  the  wind. 
Hard  a  port  and  hold  her. ' ' 

He  caught  an  oar  and  helped  the  half  turn.  With 
my  right  hand  on  the  tiller  I  flung  out  my  left  to 
the  desperate  grip  of  Cairns. 

"The  other,"  he  gasped. 

Dodo  caught  the  limp  weight  of  Hapworth  and 
heaved  him  up  and  over  into  the  boat.  Cairns,  with 
what  aid  I  could  offer,  tumbled  in  and  lay  with  his 
head  on  my  knees.  Dodo  was  lifting  and  letting  fall 
Hapworth 's  arms,  with,  as  they  fell,  knee  pressure  on 
the  belly. 

"He  's  not  dead,  sir.  Take  care  now.  Get  her 
about." 

Mrs.  Christian  was  admirably  silent,  Cairns  help 
less,  the  black  busy.  As  we  rounded  the  reef  I 
brought  the  boat  up  into  the  wind  and  crying  to  Mrs. 
Christian  to  drop  the  anchor,  was  glad  to  be  under 
the  island  lee  in  quiet  water. 

' i  What  now,  Dodo  ? "  I  said,  as  I  drew  up  the  dory 
we  towed. 

"Take  Mr.  Cairns  ashore.  Mrs.  Christian,  please 
run  up  and  get  hot  water  and  brandy.  He  '11  do. 
He  's  breathed.  Come  back  quick.  There,  he  's  bet 
ter." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  149 

I  somehow  got  Cairns  on  to  the  beach  and  left  him 
lying  in  the  sun,  an  utterly  exhausted  man.  Then 
I  pulled  back  to  the  catboat.  Hapworth  was  drawing 
long  irregular  breaths.  We  got  him  ashore  and  at 
last  up  to  the  tent  and  into  his  bed,  where  Mrs. 
Christian  took  charge.  He  lay  with  wide-open  eyes 
but  said  no  word.  Cairns  too  was  put  to  bed  in  my 
own  tent.  I  left  Dodo  in  care  of  the  camp  and  went 
away  in  haste  up  the  shore  to  find  Dagett. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  was  it?  I  knowed  you 
was  in  some  trouble." 

I  told  him  briefly  what  had  happened. 

"And  Cairns  went  over  after  him  in  that  there  sea? 
It  ain't  scarcely  to  be  believed,  Mr.  Sherwood.  Why, 
down  Belport  way  they  say  he  's  of  the  very  scum  of 
cowards.  Them  army  men  '11  say  of  a  man  to  this 
day,  'He  scares  as  bad  as  Bob  Cairns.'  I  couldn't 
of  done  it.  I  don't  seem  to  feel  I  could  of  done  it, 
and  I  'm  nigh  as  seaworthy  as  a  fish. ' ' 

"He  's  a  brave  man,  Tom.  I  'd  like  to  have  that 
thing  to  my  credit. ' ' 

"Me  the  same,  sir, — and  was  you  wantin'  any 
help?" 

"Yes." 

I  sent  him  to  tell  Christian  I  must  keep  his  wife 
all  night.  Then  I  walked  homeward.  I  soon  knew 
that  I  was  unusually  tired.  Presently  I  sat  down 
and  began  to  laugh.  Here  was  I,  a  sick  man,  con 
valescing  creditably,  comfortably,  making  friends  with 
nature  and  of  a  sudden  I  have  on  my  hands  an  in- 


150  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

sane  man,  a  situation  eminently  tragic  and,  to  cap 
all,  what  I  hoped  would  be  only  a  temporary  hospital 
ward.  Then  for  added  human  interest  there  was  this 
amazing  contrast  of  cowardice  in  the  lad  and  perfect 
courage  in  the  man. 

I  went  home  thoughtful  and  disposed  to  feel  hope 
ful  as  to  the  rescued  man  and  his  yet  unsolved  problem. 
Cairns  was  doing  well,  but  Hapworth  was  wandering 
in  mind  and  uneasy  in  body.  I  ventured  to  give 
him  a  dose  of  morphia,  which  sent  him  into  a  deep 
sleep.  After  dinner  I  went  to  see  Cairns,  who  was 
lying  in  my  day  tent. 

"And  so,"  I  said  bluntly,  as  I  sat  down,  "you  are 
a  coward  ?  I  would  give  much  to  have  done  what  you 
did.  Nothing  but  Dodo's  readiness  saved  you.  You 
had  n  't  half  a  chance  in  that  seaway. ' ' 

"Then,  sir,  you  know  my  story?" 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  it." 

He  sat  up,  put  a  hand  on  mine  and  said,  "Then 
I  escape  the  need  to  tell  you  of  that  boy  shame.  I 
thank  God  for  this  chance.  But  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  did  not  do  it  just  to  get  rid  of  the  idea  I  was 
a  coward.  That  man  is  of  God's  best.  What  is  his 
trouble,  I  don't  know.  I  do  know  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  him  my  misery  would  have  made  me  a 
drunkard. ' ' 

"But,"  I  said,  "you  rescued  more  than  your 
friend,  you  rescued  your  own  life." 

"Yes,  perhaps,  perhaps.     It  is  years,  sir,  since  I 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  151 

talked  to  anyone,  but  Mrs.  Christian,  of  this.  I  can't 
talk  about  it  now." 

"You  need  not."     I  rose. 

"Oh,  don't  go.  I  want  to,  and  I  must  say  some 
thing.  Sit  down.  Mr.  Hapworth  has  given  Susan 
Christian  an  education  such  as  women  do  not  get  up 
here  in  this  hard-worked  country. 

"What  he  taught  me  in  my  loneliness  was  to  find 
company  in  the  books  he  lent  me.  I  owe  to  him 
all  that  and  much  more.  But,  Mr.  Sherwood,  the  more 
educated  I  became  and  the  more  I  lived  in  the  books 
with  those  who  had  done  great  things,  the  more  ter 
ribly  have  I  felt  the  failure  which  wrecked  my  life. 
Why,  as  a  boy  I  was  always  thinking  about  heroic 
acts  and  what  I  might  do  some  day — oh,  just  like  all 
boys — and  then — my  God — to  think  of  it!  In  the 
long  winter  nights,  sitting  alone  by  the  fire  in  my 
cabin,  I  have  had  awful  hours. 

"I  have  longed  for  a  war — oh,  for  a  chance — a 
chance.  It  did  all  seem  so  hopeless.  Then  I  would 
tramp  through  the  snow  to  Christian's  and  talk  to 
Susan  and  go  away  cursing  the  refinements  Hapworth 
had  brought  into  her  life  and  mine.  It  has  made  me 
increasingly  sensitive  and  here  I  was  constantly  with 
the  Christians,  pretty  sure  how  Mrs.  Christian  and 
her  old  soldier  felt,  not  daring  to  risk  a  new  defeat. 
Even  if  I  had  been  sure  of  Susan,  I  would  never 
have  asked  her  to  marry  a  man  who — I  can't  go  on. 
I  had  to  talk  to  you.  I  could  not  talk  to  Hapworth. 


152  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Any  talk  about  women  somehow  troubles  him.  And 
now  I  can  go  to  Susan  and  she  will  know  and  feel 
that  what  I  did  this  morning  those  men  who  mock 
at  me  to  this  day  would  never  have  dared  to  do,  and 
that  's  laughable,  Mr.  Sherwood,  because, — oh,  if  they 
only  knew,  it  wasn't  courage — oh,  because  it  was 
simply  the  love  and  gratitude  of  a  soul  rescued  from 
the  hell  of  drink. 

"Thank  you  for  listening  to  me.  I  shall  say  no 
more.  But  to  think  of  it,  a  kind  word  on  the  beach 
from  you  gave  me  this  chance  and  I  came  near  to 
saying  no.  It  scares  me  now  to  think  how  damn  near 
I  was — may  God  bless  you  for  the  gift  you  gave  me 
this  morning — if  you  had  not  had  just  that  gentle- 
mannered  way  Mrs.  Christian  talks  about — I  might — 
oh,  Lord!"  and  he  ceased,  exhausted  by  his  venture 
and  the  excitement  of  confession. 

I  was  much  moved  by  what  I  thus  heard  and  was 
glad  to  have  a  ready  reply. 

"You  went  overboard  to  save  a  friend.  I  like  to 
say  to  you  that  before  this  gave  me  a  new  motive  I 
had  talked  with  Mrs.  Christian  and  was  planning  to 
do  something  for  you." 

He  sat  up.  "Is  that  so?  What,  before  this? 
You  can't  mean  it,  sir." 

"Yes,  I  meant  it,  but  now  you  have  made  a  friend 
and  so  have  I.  I  have  discharged  Jones.  You  are 
to  take  over  my  affairs.  We  will  talk  of  this  further 
when  you  are  better.  I  am  sure  from  what  I  hear 
that  you  are  a  competent  man  and  one  to  trust  and  I 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  153 

mean  to  trust  you.  I  have  long  had  in  mind  to  buy 
some  pine  lands  up  the  shore.  Now  I  wish  you  to  be 
my  agent  and  to  cut  and  sell  as  seems  best  to  you. 
No,  don't  thank  me.  This  is  my  blessed  chance.  You 
have  had  yours.  Good  night.  We  will  breakfast  to 
gether." 

He  merely  looked  at  me  with  over-full  eyes  and 
fell  back  on  his  pillow  murmuring,  "A  friend — you 
my  friend — thank  God!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  TURNED  in  early,  wondering  as  I  dropped  into 
slumber,  what  effect  the  day  would  have  on  Hap- 
worth  and  if  it  would  not  be  best  to  speak  outright 
of  his  delusions;  in  common  phrase,  to  take  the  bull 
by  the  horns.  Then  I  laughed  at  the  thought  of  that 
as  being  the  horns  of  a  dilemma,  for  to  let  go  were 
perilous,  to  hold  on  till  the  bull  acquired  a  Christian 
spirit  a  lengthy  task.  This  is  the  last  I  remember 
of  an  eventful  day.  I  fell  overboard  into  the  ocean 
of  sleep  and  was  as  well  drowned  as  Hapworth. 

After  all  these  thousands  of  years,  it  is  strange  that 
we  know  so  little  of  that  time  in  which  we  expend  a 
third  of  our  years.  It  is  a  country  from  whose 
bourne  all  travellers  return  with  little  knowledge.  I 
have  heard  that  it  solves  problems  and  confides  their 
solution  to  the  post  dormitium.  I  much  doubt  the 
story  I  have  read  of  poets  making  verse  in  sleep.  I 
heard  that  Voltaire  did  it,  or  said  he  did,  and  even  that 
he  composed  in  sleep  a  whole  Canto,  but  he  was  the 
prince  of  all  the  liars.  Once  I  swore  outrageously  in  a 
dream  and  at  Euphemia,  of  all  people,  for  in  fact  I 
never  swear  in  daytime.  I  wonder  how  many  men 
a  man  is.  I  seem,  as  I  write,  to  be  not  a  changed 
man,  but  another  man  and  never  more  than  when 

154 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  155 

I  am  born  again  at  morning  for  the  life  of  the  day. 

Awaking  at  dawn,  I  heard  Mrs.  Christian  astir  in 
the  Hapworth  ward.  Cairns,  in  his  ward,  was  snor 
ing  with  gentle  rhythmic  regularity,  to  be  scanned  in 
spondees,  and  then  out  of  the  ridiculous  suggestions 
of  memory  came,  ''But  gently  scan  thy  fellow  man." 
Enjoying  my  nonsense,  I  stood  listening.  To  scan 
Dodo's  performance  were  impossible.  I  thought  of 
the  god  Snora  and  went  down  to  my  bath  laughing. 

A  south  wind  gently  chased  what  Shelley  calls 
wavelets  along  the  beach  line.  They  tumbled  and 
played  like  wild  white  kittens  or  streamed  out  along 
the  shore  in  wind-twisted  coils,  snake  like.  It  was 
quite  new  to  me,  for  the  south  wind  blowing  parallel 
to  my  beach  is  rare.  I  took  one  fearsome,  delicious 
plunge  and  then  a  douche  of  fresh  brook  water. 

Dodo  was  calling  to  me  to  come  up  and  see  Mr. 
Ilapworth,  "he  was  that  wild."  I  made  haste  to 
dress  and  went  into  the  tent.  Ilapworth  was  seated 
on  his  bedside. 

"Mr.  Sherwood,"  he  cried,  "this  man  will  not  let 
me  get  up.  Are  they  outside?" 

"Who?" 

"The  detectives!" 

"Nonsense.     There  is  no  one  but  me." 

"I  must  have  been  dreaming."  He  sunk  back  in 
bed,  saying,  "What  is  the  matter?  What  was  it?" 

To  which  I  replied,  "You  went  out  to  sail  yester 
day." 

"Yes,  I  remember  that." 


156  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 


t  (.• 


You  fell  overboard.  Cairns  went  over  after  yor. 
and  saved  your  life.  Don 't  you  remember  that  ? ' ' 

"No,  nothing  until  I  was  in  the  tent." 

"Indeed.  You  must  keep  quiet  until  you  are 
better. " 

"He  saved  me?" 

"Yes." 

' '  Then  he  did  me  an  evil  turn. ' ' 

1 1  No,  a  good  one  for  you  and  for  him. ' ' 

"You  are  very  kind  to  a  man  like  me.  I  do  not 
want  to  live. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  you  will.  You  are  the  victim  of  some  absurd 
delusion. ' ' 

"Who  told  you  that?"  he  cried  fiercely.  To  go  on 
or  retreat  ?  I  did  not  know  which  were  better. 

"We  will  not  talk  of  it  now." 

"You  had  better  not,"  he  exclaimed  angrily. 

He  was  so  much  excited  that  I  gave  up  all  speech 
for  a  little  and  then  said  merely,  "Trust  me  as  a 
friend,  Mr.  Hapworth.  I  will  come  again,  and  do  you 
feel  well  enough  for  books?" 

"No,  thank  you,  and  I  had  rather  be  alone." 

"Very  good.  You  will  not  tell  Cairns  he  did  you 
an  ill  turn." 

"I  am  a  troubled  man,  Mr.  Sherwood,  and  some 
times  I  think  I  am  possessed  by  fiends,  but  I  am  at 
least  a  gentleman." 

"Pardon  me,"  I  said,  and  left  him.  For  two  days 
he  lay  abed,  cared  for  by  Dodo  and  me. 

I  saw  meanwhile  much  of  Cairns,  whom  I  increas- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  157 

ingly  liked.  We  settled  that  there  should  be  a  saw 
mill,  I  to  supply  the  money  and  he,  as  my  partner, 
to  divide  with  me  the  profits.  He  suggested  Chris 
tian  as  foreman.  The  change  in  the  man's  manner 
was  to  me  a  daily  pleasure.  Moreover,  he  was  intel 
ligent  and  thoughtful.  Once  again  he  spoke,  now 
quite  at  his  ease,  of  his  own  misconduct  and  at  last 
said, ' '  Don 't  you  think,  sir,  there  ought  to  be  for  crime 
after  the  man  has  been  punished  by  law  a  statute  of 
limitation  in  regard  to  the  social  consequences?  I 
mean  for  a  repentant  man.  He  is  apt  to  be  made  to 
suffer  endlessly. ' ' 

I  said, ' '  Yes,  but  I  fear  we  may  wait  long  for  that. ' ' 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,  sir,  but  it  is  hard.  I 
found  it  so. ' ' 

"But  yours  was  not  a  crime." 

"Oh,  the  worst  of  crimes,  a  crime  against  my  coun- 
try." 

"It  is  over  for  you  now,  a  thing  in  the  past  of  a 
boy." 

"Yes,  but  not  the  memory  of  it." 

1 '  You  will  outlive  even  that  bitterness.  Let  us  talk 
of  the  mill,  Cairns. ' ' 

Mrs.  Christian  reported  the  wonder  our  adventure 
excited  in  Belport,  whither  she  had  gone,  I  was  sure, 
for  an  honest  gossip  about  Cairns.  I  fancy  it  lost 
nothing  in  the  telling.  "The  Mayor,  he  's  coming 
out  to  see  you,  and  more  of  them." 

When  she  had  gone,  Cairns  said  to  me,  "I  will 
not  see  them." 


158  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "you  will.  You  resented  their 
treatment  of  you,  but  if  it  was  cruel  and  excessive, 
was  it  not  founded  on  facts  you  could  not  deny?" 

"Yes,  I  was  all  they  said — but  to  be  brutally  han 
dled  for  years — it  was  too  much,  and  there  was,  what 
was  worse,  a  woman." 

"You  will  find  a  kinder  one." 

"I  have.  I  ought  to  tell  you.  I  almost  did  tell 
you/' 

"Susan  Christian?" 

"Yes.  Now  I  can  ask  her.  A  week  ago  I  could 
not." 

"By  George,  I  will  build  a  house.  We  '11  plan  it 
to-night;  and  be  thankful  for  this  new  world  you 
found  under  water.  Be  simply,  quietly  pleasant  with 
these  people.  Think  of  them  as  glad  of  your  rescue 
of  Robert  Cairns  from  the  bad  opinion  of  men  who 
are  some  of  them  surely,  oh,  no  doubt  of  it,  glad  to 
believe  in  you  again." 

"I  will,"  he  said,  laughing,  "but  you  ought  to 
have  been  a  preacher,  Mr.  Sherwood." 

"The  devil!"  I  exclaimed,  and  went  away  laugh 
ing  and  thinking  of  the  whist  or  poker  party  at  the 
club  hearing  of  me  as  an  angel  and  a  preacher,  elect 
of  nature. 

Mrs.  Christian  was  right.  The  Belport  folk  found 
difficulty  in  reversing  their  opinion  of  the  man  whom 
their  contempt  had  driven  into  exile. 

I  had  the  benefit  of  two  visits  from  these  somewhat 
puzzled  people.  This  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  159 

my  advice  to  Cairns.  The  day  had  been  warm.  The 
air  was  hazy  with  the  smoke  from  a  smudge  in  front 
of  the  tents,  an  attention  to  the  mosquitoes.  I  was 
reading,  or  trying  to,  in  the  failing  light.  Cairns 
had  a  table  outside  of  the  tent  and  was  busy  with  a 
sketch  plan  I  had  made  of  the  mill  and  of  some  of 
my  suggestions  for  adjusting  the  saws. 

Within  the  shelter  of  my  tent,  I  heard  Cairns  say, 
"If  Mr.  Sherwood  were  here,  he  might  ask  you  to 
sit  down.  I  take  no  such  liberty."  I  sat  up,  at 
tentive,  and  heard  what  followed. 

"Why,  Bob,  what  's  the  matter?" 

His  voice  rose.  "I  am  Mr.  Cairns,  not  Bob,  and 
you,  I  suppose,  are  still  editor  of  the  Belport  Star. 
What  is  it  you  want?" 

"Why,  what  's  amiss?  I  guess  you  're  still  some 
angry  and  the  fact  is  you  was  n  't  too  charitably  con 
sidered.  Some  don't  altogether  credit  the  story  of 
that  heroic  rescue.  I  call  it  heroic.  Now  a  few  par 
ticulars  would  gratify — I  assure  you  would  gratify, 
the  legitimate  desire  of  the  public  to  hear  from  you 
personally.  In  fact — " 

Then  I  heard  Cairns  break  in  angrily,  "Mr.  Grice, 
I  think  that  will  do.  I—" 

"But — permit  me — when  you  were  in  trouble  years 
ago,  I  am  sure  your  trouble  was  misstated,  misunder 
stood—" 

"It  was  not.  I  behaved  like  the  coward  I  was. 
You  were  of  those  who  made  the  worst  of  a  boy's 
misbehavior.  It  is  men  like  you,  who  struck  no  blow 


160  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

in  the  war,  who  submitted  to  no  test  of  courage,  who, 
north  and  south,  have  done  all  they  could  to  keep 
alive  ill  feeling.  You  can't  interview  me." 

"But,  Mr.  Cairns,  you  aren't  very  wise  not  to 
make  friends  with  the  press.  It  's  a  power,  sir — " 

"A  power.  Yes — for  good  or  evil.  Stop  just  here, 
Mr.  Grice.  You  came  to  get  an  article  for  your 
paper,  and  because  I  want  none  of  you,  you  threaten 
me,  in  a  way.  You  and  your  press  may  go  to  Sheol 
if  you  know  what  that  is.  Good-bye. ' ' 

I  heard  him  moving  and  the  other  man  exclaim, 
1  'Well,  by  George !"  Then  he  too  went  away  through 
the  woods.  I  regretted  not  to  have  seen  him. 

Coming  out,   I  saw   Cairns,   still  red  and  angry. 

"Well,  well,"  I  laughed,  "you  are  doing  pretty 
well  with  my  sermon." 

"Mr.  Sherwood,  that  man  was  the  first  one  to  take 
my  miserable  story  straight  to  my  uncle.  It  killed 
him.  He  was  a  proud  man.  It  killed  him.  He  had 
had  many  troubles  and  deaths  and,  as  he  was  fond 
of  me,  what  I  did  or  failed  to  do,  hit  him  hard. 
You  see,  my  folks  had  been  in  every  war  since  the 
Louisburg  time.  I  did  so  want  to  kick  that  man. 
He  will  have  to  be  careful." 

That  was  my  opinion.  This  happy,  alert,  well 
built,  young  fellow  was  an  altered  personality,  had 
undergone  a  sea  change. 

Mr.  Hapworth  was  now  up  and  came  to  meals. 
What  he  said  to  Cairns  of  his  rescue  I  neither  heard 
nor  asked.  The  latter  was  to  leave  next  day  to  bar- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  161 

gain  for  the  pine  lands.  There  were  other  guests, 
not  a  few,  mosquitoes  and  black  flies.  They  did  not 
bite  me  at  all,  but  to  my  amusement  they  attacked 
Hapworth  ferociously,  singularly  disturbing  the  con 
tinuity  of  his  melancholic  moods,  so  that  he  was 
every  now  and  then  running  out  to  stir  up  the 
smudge,  which — the  smudge — is  an  art  and  demands 
judgment  and  cedar  bark,  as  not  everyone  knows. 
Now  this  was  years  ago  but  nowadays  we  have  Chris 
tian  Science  and  of  course  no  need  to  scratch  the  bite 
even  of  a  Jersey  mosquito. 

I  was  speculating  that  night  on  the  remedial  value 
of  these  tormentors  when  Dodo  appeared.  He  was 
much  excited.  "That  gentleman!  Didn't  you  hear 
him!" 

"I  did  not." 

"He  got  up  last  night,  about  twelve  o'clock,  and 
came  to  my  tent  and  told  me  he  was  afraid  to  be 
alone.  Two  days  ago  he  said  he  killed  someone.  I 
asked  him  who  it  was  and  he  didn't  seem  to  know. 
I  'm  scared  of  that  man.  He  comes  and  sits  in  the 
kitchen  when  you  're  away  and  he  's  hoodooed  the 
bread  so  it  won't  rise!" 

' '  Nonsense ! ' ' 

"Never  hear  that?  The  bread  won't  ever  rise  if 
there  's  a  crazy  around.  I  just  think,  sir,  he  ought 
to  have  a  doctor." 

"That  is  my  opinion,  Dodo,  and  I  am  glad  to  tell 
you  that  I  have  persuaded  Dr.  Heath  to  pay  me  a 
visit.  I  wrote  before  we  started  this  private  sani- 


162  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

tarium  and,  Dodo,  Miss  Euphemia  is  coming  with 
him.  You  will  go  to  Belport  in  the  catboat  to-mor 
row  and  wait  for  them.  If  the  day  is  bad,  they  must 
drive  up  and  walk  through  the  woods.  Get  another 
tent  and  blankets,  whatever  we  need.  They  may  keep 
you  till  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  sir,  the  doctor  he  's  all  right,  but  Miss 
Phony—" 

"Well?" 

"I  was  only  just  reflecting. " 

"Oh,  get  out!" 

"Better  send  that  gentleman  home.  His  house  is 
most  done." 

"No,  it  is  not." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Since  of  late  I  knew  of  Hapworth's  delusion  I 
would  have  been  glad  to  put  off  Euphemia 's  visit, 
but  it  was  now  out  of  the  question  and  I  sorely 
needed  Heath's  counsel. 

Dodo  went  away  at  dawn  before  I  bathed  and  for 
a  time  the  population  was  limited  to  Hapworth,  Mike, 
myself,  mosquitoes,  and  an  occasional  black  fly. 

I  routed  Hapworth  out  at  sun-up  and  made  him 
take  a  dip  in  the  cold  surf.  He  re-appeared  at  break 
fast,  which  was  none  of  the  best,  as  Dodo  being  ab 
sent  I  tried  my  hand  at  an  omelette  and  made  coffee 
in  the  teapot  with  memorable  results.  Hapworth 
heard  that  Dodo  had  gone  to  Belport,  but  of  my  new 
guests,  I  said,  as  yet,  nothing.  My  companion  was 
for  the  time  of  day  notably  better  and  would  go  out 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  163 

to  the  kitchen  and  make  the  coffee  and,  in  fact,  did 
make  it  well.  I  began  coolly  to  talk  of  his  rescue 
and  the  Belport  editor  and  he  in  turn  very  rationally 
of  Cairns  and  his  good  qualities,  and  what  I  had 
done  for  him,  with  a  pleasant  word  of  Susan. 

At  last  he  said,  "Were  you  ever  haunted  by  a 
dream  until  now  and  then  it  seemed  to  you  to  have 
been  real ? ' ' 

This  abrupt  break  into  subjects  I  had  with  care 
avoided  was  rather  startling  and  put  me  on  my  guard. 
Was  it  a  sign  of  recovering  reason  and  a  hopeful 
symptom  ? 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  replied;  "I  used  to  dream  of  being 
able  to  move  through  the  air  at  will  until  at  last  for 
a  little  while,  on  waking,  I  felt  I  could  do  it. ' ' 

"But  not  permanently  do  it?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  One  may  even  have  in  sleep  an 
insane  dream  of  having  killed  someone  and  be  pleas 
antly  contradicted  by  the  relief  of  the  waking  state." 

"But  if  it  continued,  the  dream?" 

' '  That  would  mean  an  insane  state. ' ' 

He  was  silent  a  while  and  then  said,  "Let  us  talk 
of  something  else." 

"Gladly,"  I  said.  "You  are  better,  but  you  need 
exercise.  Suppose  we  try  a  long  walk  through  the 
woods  and  over  Gay  Mountain.  There  is  a  good  trail, 
or  by  the  way,  last  week  you  spoke  of  trout  fishing. 
I  have  not  fished  since  I  noosed  pike  in  a  Jersey  mill- 
race.  You  might  give  me  a  lesson.  There  are  all 
kinds  of  tackle  in  Dodo's  tent." 


164  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  saw  at  once  that  I  was  fortunate.  I  left  him 
to  find  rods,  flies  and  nets,  an  evidently  pleasured 
man  and  liking  the  small  responsibility  I  declined. 

While  he  was  absent,  I  sat  outside  of  my  tent  and 
smoked  the  pipe  of  reflection.  Yes,  I  had  come  hither 
in  April.  It  was  now  mid  July.  I  must  think  over 
the  situation  created  by  the  coming  guests.  I  can  not 
think  consecutively  here.  At  home  my  mind  worked 
in  an  orderly,  disciplined  way.  Here  I  am  so  jostled 
of  late  by  the  small  needs  of  the  moment — that  I 
forgot  to  put  down  my  first  find  of  the  red  lily  and 
an  orchid  nameless  for  me  and  the  green  fungus, 
luminous  of  damp  nights,  which  seemed  to  my  igno 
rance  so  wonderful.  I  got  back  to  my  social  problem. 
In  a  day  or  two  I  would  have  to  tell  Euphemia  who 
Hapworth  was  and  the  doctor  of  course  very  soon,  to 
my  relief.  I  had  become  pitiful  of  my  unhappy 
guest  and  was  learning  to  like  the  man  and  to  admire 
his  emerging  social  qualities  and  his  knowledge  of 
things  of  which  I  knew  little  and  which  were  slowly 
acquiring  interest.  I  had  been  a  rather  lonely  fellow 
and  without  desire  to  be  otherwise.  Now  the  mechan 
ism  called  man  was  winning  my  attention  and  I  was 
glad  that  Cairns,  a  simpler  personality,  liked  me  and 
would  be  pleased  to  feel  that  I  had  won  the  regard 
of  Hapworth,  his  friend,  a  far  more  complex  char 
acter. 

I  heard  a  quite  cheerful  "Halloo!"  from  the  man 
in  question  and  went  away  up  the  brook  with  him. 
I  listened  like  a  child  to  his  instructions,  tried  a  cast 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  165 

and  another,  Hap  worth  saying,  "  Strike  quicker. 
Your  personal  equation  is  defective." 

I  knew  what  that  meant.  The  hand  did  not  re 
spond  quickly  enough  to  the  bite.  The  next  time  I 
lodged  my  fly  in  the  branches  of  a  pine  and  broke 
the  tip.  Then  I  sat  down  and  watched  the  brilliant 
success  of  the  personal  equation  of  Hapworth,  who 
soon  filled  his  basket. 

We  went  home  and  Hapworth  cooked  the  trout  in 
paper  for  lunch.  Cairns  turned  up  soon  after  and 
I  went  into  the  wood  to  collect  marsh  marigolds  and 
twin  flowers  to  decorate  the  dinner  table  in  honor  of 
Euphemia. 

On  my  return  I  found  Cairns  pleasantly  talking 
with  the  one-armed  Major  Browne.  He  said  to  me 
frankly,  ''Major  Browne  was  about  the  only  man  in 
Belport,  Mr.  Sherwood,  who  was  kind  to  me  when, 
as  a  lad,  I  lost  the  respect  of  other  men.  He  did  his 
best  for  me  with  my  uncle.  I  am  glad  for  his  sake 
to  be  able  to  look  him  in  the  face  without  shame." 

"And  I  am  glad,  too,"  said  the  Major.  "I  'm 
real  glad.  I  hear,  sir,  you  have  been  right  kind  to 
him.  He  deserves  it." 

I  said  simply  that  few  things  had  given  me  more 
satisfaction  and  added,  to  draw  out  the  Major,  that 
I  was  sorry  to  see  he  had  lost  his  arm,  and  did  he 
miss  it  much? 

"No  and  yes."  It  had  brought  him  the  medal  of 
valor.  That  was  worth  an  arm.  I  saw  Cairns'  face 
change,  but  the  Major  went  on.  "To  think  of  it, 


166  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

sir.  That  arm  is  in  a  jar  in  a  government  show  in 
Washington.  If  Abe  Lincoln  had  lived,  I  'd  'ave  got 
it  for  decent  burial.  Comes  an  east  wind  and  I  feel 
every  finger  and  sometimes  I  want  to  scratch  it, 
mainly  the  thumb,  and  how  can  I  when  it  's  in  a  jar 
in  alcohol?" 

"But,"  I  said,  "it  would  be  as  bad  if  it  was 
buried." 

"Never  thought  of  that.  That  's  so."  The  Major 
accepted  a  segar  and  rye  whiskey  and  left  us,  re 
marking  that  he  might  be  of  service  in  the  matter 
of  marketing  pine,  and  Hapworth  sat  down  on  the 
rock  to  read.  Cairns  turned  to  his  plan  for  the  mill 
and  I  to  arrange  the  table  in  my  large  tent. 

Presently  Hapworth  came  in.  He  saw  the  seats 
for  five  and  as  he  at  once  showed  uneasiness,  I  had 
to  explain. 

* '  I  expect  my  cousin,  Dr.  Heath.  I  want  him  to  see 
me.  You  know  I  was  said  to  have  some  lung  trouble. '  ' 
I  fear  I  did  fib  mildly.  In  fact,  I  shrunk  from  an 
other  overhauling  of  my  interior  and  meant  to  have 
none.  As  I  named  Heath,  Hapworth 's  face  changed. 

"Heath — Heath" — he  repeated  and  then  quickly, 
"Wasn't  he  in  Italy  at  one  time?" 

"No,"  I  said,  rather  surprised;  "never.  Why  do 
you  ask?" 

"And  the  other?" 

"Oh,  my  cousin,  Miss  Euphemia  Swanwick,  a 
maiden  lady.  You  will  like  her.  Help  me  to  make 
the  table  pretty." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  167 

He  exclaimed — again—  "Heath,  Heath,"  but  of 
a  sudden  became  interested  in  the  flowers.  He  set  the 
yellow  marigolds  in  a  central  bowl  and  I  left  him 
laying  the  twin  flower  vines  around  the  plates. 

He  said,  when  he  came  out,  "A  woman,  you  said. 
Where  is  she  from?" 

I  told  him,  and  once  more  he  seemed  to  be  set  at 
ease,  but  queried,  "Is  she  young?" 

I  laughed,  "About  fifty." 

Then  he  went  back  to  his  book,  but  I  saw  that  now 
and  then  he  looked  across  the  sea,  where  a  light  wind 
blowing  from  Belport  promised  my  new  guests  an 
agreeable  sail. 

About  five,  having  smudged  the  tents  free  of 
mosquitoes,  never  very  annoying  in  this  wind-swept 
space,  I  called  Hapworth  and  we  went  to  the  beach 
to  meet  my  guests.  Euphemia  and  the  doctor  were 
set  ashore. 

"Mr.  Hapworth,"  I  said,  "Miss  Swanwick,  Dr. 
Heath,  both  my  cousins,"  and  with  a  word  or  two  of 
their  pleasant  sail,  we  went  up  to  the  camp,  where 
Cairns  was  presented. 

Euphemia  was,  as  usual,  enthusiastic,  and  praised 
everything.  To  my  amusement,  Hapworth  took  upon 
him  to  show  her  the  tents  and  the  kitchen  while  I 
set  about  arranging  their  new  canvas  homes. 

That  was  a  very  memorable  dinner.  No  one  knew 
better  than  Euphemia  that  the  table  showed  refined 
taste.  "Not  yours,  John,"  she  remarked. 

"  No, "  I  said.     ' '  Mr.  Hapworth 's. ' ' 


168  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

A  moment  later,  between  the  chowder  and  baked 
lobster,  I  saw  her  put  on  her  eyeglasses  (she  was 
very  near-sighted)  and  carefully  regard  Hap  worth 
and  more  briefly  Cairns.  Then  she  closed  the  glasses 
in  a  conclusive  and  to  me  highly  indicatory  way. 
We  talked  about  Dodo 's  skill  as  a  cook  and  the  things 
we  were  eating.  Mr.  Cairns  said  only  Dodo  and  two 
women  he  knew  could  broil  a  chicken.  It  must  be 
split  like  this  one. 

"It  looks  like  the  arms  of  Austria,"  said  Euphe- 
mia. 

There  was  an  omelette  with  clams,  a  salad  and 
what  else  I  forget.  The  talk  was  lightly  handled. 
Euphemia's  easier  fortunes  had  for  many  years 
set  free  the  natural  gaiety  which  anxieties  due  to 
limited  means  had  long  repressed.  She  thought 
this  .plan  of  the  cook  serving  the  dinner  had  its 
advantages.  He  would  hear  the  criticisms.  * '  But 
after  all,  John,  no  one  nowadays  gives  serious  at 
tention  to  the  matter  of  dinner.  The  gourmet  is 
extinct." 

Then  to  my  surprise  Hapworth,  long,  too  long, 
silent,  said,  smiling,  "The  gourmet  in  literature  is 
passing,  too,  the  refined,  critical  reader,  the  dear 
lover  of  the  essay,  of  the  little  kingdom  of  the  son 
net  so  few  have  conquered.  He  is  passing,  the  sensi 
tive  gourmet  of  literature.  We  are  gourmands  and 
gorge  ourselves  with  crude  food  at  the  newspaper 
trough  or  the  magazine  lunch  counter." 

Cairns,  who  had  scarcely  spoken  at  all,   listened, 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  169 

intelligently  apprehensive,  an  educable  creature,  thor 
ough  American,  appreciative  of  opportunities  long 
denied. 

I  had  rarely  heard  Hapworth  speak  so  bitterly. 

"We  have  no  troughs  here,  Cousin  Euphemia,"  I 
said,  "no  literary  lunch  counters,  not  a  newspaper 
since  April." 

"Bless  me,"  said  my  cousin.  "How  dreadful  for 
this  little  pig!  I  never  read  the  politics.  I  dislike 
drowning  or  being  murdered.  When  I  want  to  be 
serious  I  read  Punch,  and  for  the  humorous  side  of 
life,  the  Spectator's  reports  of  questions  asked  in  the 
House  of  Commons." 

"And,"  I  said,  "she  does  read  the  deaths,  Mr. 
Hapworth. ' ' 

"That,"  cried  Heath,  "is  because  she  declares  it 
is  so  reassuring  to  find  that  only  the  people  with 
queer  names  die." 

"It  is  a  calumny,  Mr.  Hapworth."  I,  for  my 
part,  liked  her  half-meant  nonsense.  It  was  a  sure 
sign  of  good  humor  and  I  had  not  felt  quite  secure 
about  this  visit.  Euphemia  and  the  doctor,  Hap 
worth  and  Cairns,  made  a  difficult  social  equation 
which  was  being  pleasantly  solved.  But  how  strange 
to  hear  a  man  talk  of  the  refinements  of  the  essay 
and  the  sonnet  and  know  that  he  believed  he  had 
murdered  his  wife. 

As  I  thus  reflected,  Cairns,  quite  acceptive  of  Eu 
phemia 's  humor,  said,  "Might  I  send  for  the  Belport 
8tarf" 


170  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Not  if  you  value  your  life."  said  I. 

"I  bought  a  copy  as  we  waited  for  Dodo,"  said 
Euphemia,  "but  I  did  not  know,  Mr.  Cairns,  that  I 
was  to  meet  the  editorialised  hero." 

"Editorialised,  Cousin ?"  I  said.  "Thanks  for  an 
addition  to  English." 

"I  assure  you  it  was  most  delightful.  If  anyone 
would  give  me  such  a  character  for  my  next  place — 
but  now  you  will  tell  me  all  about  it. ' ' 

Cairns  said,  "I  must  ask  you  not  to  insist.  It 
was  of  no  moment. ' ' 

I  saw  his  growing  embarrassment.  He  was  think 
ing  backward.  I  made  haste  to  say,  "If  Mr.  Grice 
was  editorially  amiable,  Cairns,  after  your  interview 
he  must  have  sunk  the  natural  man  in  that  singular 
creature,  the  reporter,  at  his  worst. ' ' 

"I  wish  the  mosquitoes  would  not  be  so  eager 
to  interview  me,"  said  Heath.  "Stir  the  smudge, 
Dodo." 

"Please  to  explain,  John,"  insisted  Euphemia,  not 
approving  of  my  desire  to  change  the  subject. 

"Ask  Mr.  Cairns,  Cousin." 

"Ah,  Miss  Swanwick,"  said  Cairns,  "I  have 
learned  that  to  forgive  is  not  equivalent  to  forget 
ting.  If  that  man  praised  me,  I  regret  it.  Two 
great  happinesses  are  teaching  me  to  forgive." 

"Entire  f  orgetf  ulness, "  said  Hap  worth,  "would 
make  forgiveness  needless." 

Jleath  looked  up  suddenly  attentive,     Miss  Swan- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  171 

wick,  her  glasses  on,  was  revising  her  primary  judg 
ments. 

"You  are  all  very  enigmatic, "  she  said.  "Do  you 
live  here  in  an  atmosphere  of  mystery,  with  islands 
where,  my  cousin  writes  me,  no  one  can  sleep  and 
heroic  rescues  no  one  will  tell  me  about?  Perhaps 
you  will,  Mr.  Hap  worth  ? ' ' 

"I  know  less  of  it  than  anybody,''  he  said  shortly, 
which  was  true. 

"You  are  all  of  you  very  provoking." 

' '  Let  us  have  our  coffee  on  the  cliff, ' '  I  said,  rising. 

As  we  sat  down  on  the  rock,  I  threw  a  shawl  over 
Euphemia's  shoulders,  for  the  chill  of  the  north  was 
more  marked  than  usual.  I  could  not  have  desired 
a  more  wonder-filled  night  for  Euphemia.  It  was 
not  of  the  kind  to  call  out  her  usual  small  enthusi 
asms.  The  sea  was  at  rest,  the  moon  at  full  and  to 
the  north,  in  fact,  from  southeast  to  far  northwest, 
on  the  horizon  lay  a  semicircle  of  faint  luminous 
purple,  half  way  up  to  the  zenith. 

"My  God,"  said  Euphemia,  in  a  low  voice,  "how 
beautiful." 

"A  night  of  prayer,"  I  heard  Hapworth  mutter 
under  his  breath.  "All  nature  seems  at  prayer." 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  overhearing  him,  and  we 
fell  to  silence,  for  of  a  sudden  up  from  the  purple 
flashed  long  lances  of  silver  light  and  then  flare  of  red 
and  gold  banners,  flame-like,  swaying,  quivering,  as  if 
in  some  great  wind,  and  then  again  the  silver  lances. 


172  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Hap  worth  was  first  to  speak.  "Do  you  know  the 
line,  Miss  Swanwick,  'The  banners  of  Odin  stream 
red  on  the  sky?'  The  rest  I  forget." 

"No,  I  do  not  know  the  verse." 

Cairns  was  silent  and  merely  remarked  that  it  was 
an  unusual  display.  About  ten  o'clock  the  high- 
tossed  lances  were  seen  no  more.  The  purple  mound 
became  rose-red  and  faintly  tinted  the  sea.  We  sat 
still  and  saw  it  fade  away. 

"Do  you  have  this  often?"  asked  Euphemia. 

"No,"  I  said,  "this  is  the  first." 

"Do  great  masses  of  color,  red,  I  mean,  trouble  you 
with  some  sense  of  awe?"  asked  Hapworth.  It  re 
called  my  own  feeling. 

"Why  should  they?"  asked  Cairns. 

"Oh,  the  why  of  what  we  call  awe  no  man  can 
explain,"  returned  Hapworth. 

1 1  You  are  out  of  my  depth, ' '  said  my  cousin.  ' '  For 
me  that  glory  of  rose  light  was  simply  beautiful.  I 
like  it.  I  mean  to  be  amused  here,  to  be  introduced 
only  to  new  and  pleasant  things  and  to  share  with 
you  all  the  joys  of  your  retreat.  Are  you,  Mr.  Hap 
worth,  like  my  cousin,  flying  for  a  retreat  from  our 
uneasy  world?" 

"I,  Miss  Swanwick?"  he  said,  with  entire  self- 
command.  "I  am  flying  from  an  unroofed  house," 
and  then,  "for  two  years  these  great  lonely  woods 
have  been  a  very  welcome  retreat. ' ' 

"There  is  a  far  better  one,"  said  Euphemia, 
"with  more  of  helpfulness  than  the  woods  can  give. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  173 

There  is  but  one  mode  of  retreat  of  real  spiritual 
value. ' ' 

''Ah,  Miss  Swanwick,"  returned  Hap  worth,  "  'Full 
many  are  the  ways  that  lead  to  God. '  '  I  saw  Heath 
turn  quickly  and  look  at  him. 

The  gravity  of  his  quoted  answer  checked  her  re 
ply,  or  seemed  to.  She  was  as  usual  tempted  to 
speak  of  her  church.  What  she  did  say  was,  "Cer 
tainly  in  such  a  night  as  this  there  is  something  like 
an  atmosphere  of  spiritual  serenity,  but  I  have  felt 
it  elsewhere.  One  must  feel  it  in  cathedrals  and  in 
some  towns.  I  should  breathe  it,  I  think,  in  a  village 
like  Nazareth." 

I  listened,  curious  at  the  serious  trend  of  the  talk. 
Where  would  it  go?  Heath,  never  a  great  talker, 
had  been  unusually  silent. 

"Talking  of  towns,  were  you  ever  at  Assisi?" 
asked  Hapworth. 

1 '  Never ;  were  you  ?     I  envy  you. ' ' 

"One  must  be  there  long.     I  had — "  he  hesitated. 

"Well?" 

"I  had  a  strange  experience  in  Assisi.  I  was  there 
a  month.  One  night  I  entered  the  great  church.  No 
one  was  there.  I  knelt  at  the  chancel  rail.  Pres 
ently,  as  I  stood  up,  I  was  aware  of  a  tall,  slight 
monk  in  gray  kneeling  near  by.  I  stood  watching 
him.  After  a  little  he  rose  and  I  followed  him  down 
the  nave.  At  the  door  I  lost  him.  How,  I  do  not 
know.  No  one  was  in  the  street  near  by.  He  was 
gone. ' ' 


174  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"St.  Francis,"  murmured  Euphemia,  "and  you 
after  that  are  not  a  Catholic." 

"I  am  catholic,"  he  replied. 

I  saw  that  she  did  not  like  it,  and  aware  that  she 
was  eager  as  usual  to  reply  I  rose  and  said,  "In 
this  retreat  we  go  to  bed  early,  Euphemia.  You 
must  be  tired. ' ' 

"I  am." 

We  said  good  nights  and  went  toward  our  tents. 

"I  shall  go  to  see  Christian  to-morrow,"  said 
Cairns,  "and  early." 

"Send  his  wife  here  in  the  morning,"  I  said. 
"This  way,  Cousin.  It  is  dark." 

"John,"  she  said,  "I  really  can  not  go  to  bed 
until  I  know  why  you  wanted  to  know  about  Mr. 
Norman. ' ' 

"Hush,"  I  said,  "Mr.  Norman  is  Hap  worth." 

"Good  saints!  John — that  man!  here!  is  he  sane 
now?  And  here,  how  amazing." 

"Come  into  my  tent  and  we  will  talk,  but  speak 
low."  She  went  with  me  and  sat  down.  "I  came 
here  a  pretty  miserable  man  to  make  a  fight  for  life. 
I  wanted  quiet  and  a  mind  free  of  care.  I  found 
a  swindling  agent,  one  Jones,  who  misused  valuable 
property,  and  three  squatters  my  agent  was  not  eager 
for  me  to  see.  The  Christians  have  been  here  long, 
unprosperous  people  because  the  wife  is  not  the  hus 
band.  She  will  be  over  to  see  you  to-morrow.  We 
will  talk  of  this  another  time  and  of  Cairns. 

"Now  for  this  man.     About  two  years  ago  he  came 


JOHX  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  175 

here,  paid  Jones  to  build  him  a  log  cabin,  and  settled 
down  to  a  lonely  life,  a  wood  wanderer,  befriending 
Cairns,  reading,  keeping  in  perfect  order  a  small 
garden.  Mrs.  Christian  looks  after  him,  mends  his 
clothes,  buys  for  him  at  Belport.  The  first  month  he 
was  here  he  found  Cairns  drunk.  He  took  him  to  his 
own  home  and  kept  him  two  months.  He  has  never 
taken  spirits  since.  Cairns  told  him  the  story  of  his 
having  shown  uncontrolled  cowardice  in  the  war.  It 
was  really  very  bad.  It  had  ruined  a  sensitive  char 
acter,  lost  him  a  fair  property  and  an  old  boy-love. 
At  last  drink  destroyed  his  last  chance.  Jones  put 
him  on  my  land  to  cut  wood  for  him  and  for  sale, 
presumably  rental.  Hapworth  has  educated  his  very 
competent  mind  and  so  these  two  miserable,  self- 
exiled  men  have  lived,  shunning  all  others  except  the 
Christians.  Of  Norman's  story  Cairns  knows  noth 
ing.  Neither  man  came  to  see  me,  neither  would. 
I  myself  went  to  see  Hapworth  twice/' 

Euphemia  smiled,  put  on  her  glasses  and  said,  "I 
should  have  supposed  you  would  have  ordered  them 
off  your  land. ' ' 

"And  why?" 

"Because  you  are  a  masterful  man,  used  to  being 
obeyed  and  respected.  You  are  changed,  John, 
curiously  changed." 

"Retreats  are  valuable,  confession  hateful." 

"How  did  he  seem  to  you  when  you  called?  Was 
he  sane?" 

"Sane,  I  should  have  said,  but  odd  and  unciviL 


176  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Still  he  interested  me.  He  would  not  have  done 
so  a  year  ago.  There  is  more,  but  to  cut  it  short, 
I  was  sure  I  had  seen  him  at  some  time.  It  was  true. 
I  recalled  his  name  at  last  and  how  he  came  to  my 
works  to  ask  help  for  a  workman.  I  did  not  see  him. 
Then  I  became  curious  and  wrote  to  you.  At  that 
time  a  storm  unroofed  his  house  and  very  reluctantly 
I  got  him  to  come  to  me  for  a  time.  You  know  the 
rest.  He  still  believes  he  killed  his  wife,  or  so  I 
think,  but  he  takes  more  interest  in  life  and  I  fancy 
begins  to  doubt  his  delusion." 

Again  Euphemia  looked  at  me  with  her  perplexing 
smile.  "And  so  here  is  John  Sherwood  in  charge  of 
an  insane  man  and  the  queer  human  problem  of  a 
coward  who  is  capable  of  an  act  of  astonishing  self- 
devotion.  Really,  John,  you  are  an  extraordinary 
person,  but  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  these 
pleasing  companions?  Both,  I  admit,  are  interest 
ing  and  Norman  a  cultivated  gentleman — and  that 
poor  sad  wife.  Have  you  written  to  her?" 

"No,  not  yet.  Cairns  I  shall  care  for.  Christian 
I  have  given  his  little  farm." 

"Ah,  indeed."  I  thought  her  smile  cynical  and 
the  glasses  were  up. 

"Of  Hapworth — Norman — I  must  talk  to  Heath. 
Now  you  should  go  to  bed.  Be  careful,  Euphemia, 
about  Norman — his  name." 

"Certainly.     Do  you  not  think  him  dangerous?" 

"I  do  not,  and  he  soon  leaves  us.  Dodo  will  see 
to  you.  You  like  to  breakfast  in  bed.  Ask  for  what 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  177 

you  want.  I  may  be  away  in  the  woods  early.  Good 
night." 

I  went  to  Heath's  tent  to  see  if  he  had  been  com 
fortably  cared  for  by  Dodo.  He  was  awake  and 
complaining  of  a  neuralgic  headache,  which,  as  he 
said,  was  predictive  of  a  storm.  Dodo  had  already 
assured  me  that  the  Aurora  was  a  sure  sign  of  bad 
weather.  Heath  laughed  at  Dodo's  prophecy,  but 
was  certain  of  his  own  unpleasant  personal  capacity 
to  foretell  such  a  change.  He  asked  me  if  I  had 
seen  the  Belport  Journal,  which  had  amused  Eu- 
phemia  by  its  article  on  Cairns.  I  said,  I  had  not, 
but  presumed  it  would  naturally  have  been  malicious ; 
upon  which  I  related  Cairns'  amiable  interview 
with  the  editor.  He,  I  thought,  would  revenge  him 
self. 

Heath  said,  "No,  that  fellow  Grice  will  probably 
write  a  cynical,  discrediting  article,  and  then  tear 
it  up  and  obey  the  average  editor's  desire  to  tell 
the  truth." 

I  had  not  seen  the  'Journal,  but  from  Euphemia's 
account,  it  was  neither  unkind  nor  malicious.  Heath 
proved  to  be  correct  in  his  judgment,  rather  to 
Cairns'  disgust,  who  would  have  preferred  his  enemy 
to  have  lied  about  him. 

I  left  Heath  with  his  headache  and  his  reflections 
on  newspaper  moralities,  and  went  to  my  own  tent. 
There  was  still  a  faint  remnant  of  the  Northern 
Lights,  and  although  the  sky  was  clear,  a  smart 
northeast  wind  promised  to  justify  both  prophets  of 

12 


178  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

wet  weather.  I  went  to  bed,  with  much  to  think 
about,  and  I  did  think  about  it. 

It  was  gray  and  foggy  at  dawn  with  a  steady  driz 
zling  rain.  Cairns  had  gone.  I  woke  up  Hapworth. 

''Come,  let  us  bathe  and  get  off  up  the  brook  and 
take  some  trout  for  my  cousin's  breakfast." 

He  was  more  or  less,  less  I  thought  than  usual,  in 
his  morning  mood  of  depression.  He  agreed  in  an 
uninterested  way.  The  bath  with  no  warm  after- 
greeting  from  the  sun  seemed  to  rouse  him.  We 
dressed  and  went  away  up  the  stream.  I  declined  to 
fish,  pleading  my  inefficient  personal  equation,  but 
Hapworth  had  great  luck. 

"I  am  pretty  wet,  it  is  most  uncomfortable,"  he 
said  at  last.  The  unavoidable  comic,  the  fool  in 
every  tragedy,  was  here,  a  man  with  the  credit  of 
murder  on  his  soul  complaining  of  the  inconvenience 
of  being  wet. 

I  laughed  at  him  and  said,  ''Oh,  I  am  soaked,  too, 
but  I  want  to  see  the  spring  again — the  Earth  Laugh. 
Find  me  the  Indian  name.  I  mean  to  have  the  pool 
cleared  of  dead  leaves.  They  are  choking  the  out 
let." 

"Dead  leaves — 'dead  leaves,"  he  murmured. 

"Yes.  Walk  fast.  The  ducking  won't  hurt 
you." 

I  strode  away,  he  following  after  he  had  laid 
the  rod  and  fish  basket  on  the  shore.  The  spring 
lost  some  of  its  gay  beauty  in  the  gray  light  and 
the  drip  of  over-laden  leaves.  We  discussed  the  clear- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  179 

ing  of  the  pool  and  how  to  direct  the  overflow  so  as 
not  to  leave  the  ground  a  morass.  He  was  now  so 
lucid  and  intelligent,  so  reassuring  that  I  came  to  a 
quick  resolution.  I  turned  on  him,  set  a  hand  on  each 
of  his  shoulders  and  said,  "Hapworth,  I  have  been 
to  you — I  have  tried  to  be — what  man  should  be  to 
man  in  this  wilderness.  Your  melancholy  troubles 
me.  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

1  'Nothing."     He  remained  facing  me. 

' 'What  is  that  decision  which  you  say  has  re 
lieved  you?" 

"To  surrender  myself  to  justice." 

And  now  that  I  was  in  I  felt  that  I  must  go  on. 

"But  why?"  I  asked. 

"I  killed  my  wife  in  a  fit  of  jealousy.  She  was 
not  innocent — " 

"Stop  here.  Not  a  word  more.  You  were  out 
of  your  head.  You  were  put  in  an  asylum." 

"Yes,  to  save  me  from  the  law." 

"If  you  knew  her  to  be  alive  and  heard  from  her 
and  saw  her,  what  would  you  think?" 

"Impossible!     I  tell  you  she  is  dead." 

"But  if,  as  they  say,  you  feared  arrest  when  in 
the  asylum,  why  did  you  tell  everyone  you  had 
killed  her?" 

"That  is  confusing.     Did  I?" 

"Yes.  And  sometimes  now  you  are  in  doubt. 
The  whole  thing  is  a  wild  delusion." 

"Yes,  for  a  time  after  I  came  here  I  was  in  doubt, 
but  now  I  know."  He  put  up  his  hands  and  gently; 


180  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

freed  himself  from  my  detaining  grasp  of  his  shoul 
ders  as  he  added,  "You  are  very  kind,  but — "  and 
then  abruptly,  "you  know  my  name?" 

"Yes,  Benedict  Norman.  I  saw  you  once  or  twice 
near  my  mills." 

"  I  do  not  remember.     Who  told  you  all  this  ? ' ' 

' '  No  matter.     I  want  to  help  you. ' ' 

"Help  me?  No  man  can  help  me.  As  well  might 
you  be  able  to  make  these  dead  leaves  green." 

"You  will  not  do  anything  rash  without  talking 
further  to  me?  I  think  I  have  earned  the  right  to 
ask  it  of  you. ' ' 

1 1 1  can  make  no  promises. ' ' 

"Think  on  what  I  have  said.  It  is  late.  Let  us 
go  back  to  camp." 

We  walked  homeward  silent  in  the  thin  rainfall 
of  an  east  wind.  Of  a  sudden  I  heard  him  exclaim, 
"Well,  of  all  the  queer  things.  How  abominable!" 
The  trout  were  gone,  the  basket  torn  to  fragments, 
the  dainty  nine  ounce  rod  broken. 

"A  bear,"  I  said.  "Here  are  Mr.  Bruin's  foot 
marks.  ' ' 

Hapworth  regarded  the  wreckage  with  so  woeful 
an  aspect  that  I  roared  with  laughter.  He  said, 
"And  such  a  rod,  and  a  bluejay  and  rose  hackle 
gone. ' ' 

"Well  hooked,  no  doubt,  in  Bruin's  nose.  That  will 
make  him  scratch.  Dodo  will  mend  the  rod."  The 
contrasted  moods  puzzled  me  as  well  they  might. 

It  was  a  sorry  day  for  eainp,  but  as  the  doctor  was 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  181 

now  well  I  put  him  in  oilers  and  left  with  him  to 
walk  up  to  see  Tom  Dagett  just  as  Mrs.  Christian 
arrived  with  Susan,  both  in  hideous  dark  overcloaks 
of  rubber.  I  heard  later  of  that  visit  and  of  Susan. 
Hapworth  went  to  his  tent. 

As  we  walked  Heath  and  I  talked  of  home  things 
and  my  camp  life  and  habits  and  would  I  like  to 
have  him  overhaul  me.  I  shouted,  "No,  no.  I  am 
well  and  I  don't  believe  I  ever  had  any  tubercle,  but 
you  did  me  a  vast  service.  I  have  discovered  my 
self." 

' c  What  do  you  mean,  John  ? ' ' 

"Well,  my  dear  Harry,  I  have  learned  how  to 
play.  I  have  learned  that  life  without  steady  work 
may  content  a  man.  I  have  discovered  that  pleasure 
may  be  found  in  giving.  I  used  to  give  when  Pen- 
ryn  or  Euphemia  wanted  help  for  some  one,  but  it 
was  a  mere  perfunctory  business.  I  have  learned  to 
find  interest  in  men  for  what  they  are  as  characters, 
human  mechanisms.  By  George,  Heath,  it  was  worth 
while  to  find  what  must  have  been  the  indistinct  un- 
visited  background  of  self  somehow  become  the  fore 
ground.  The  most  surprising  thing  of  it  all  is  that 
I  am  telling  you  all  this." 

"A  little  mixed,  that  metaphor,"  said  Heath, 
"but  really,  you  have  justified  the  opinion  I  often 
expressed  of  you  when — "  and  he  hesitated.  "Well, 
when  men  said  you  were  a  mere  hard,  money-making, 
very  efficient  machine  and  would  come  to  be  like 
Uncle  Dick." 


182  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"That  was  a  pleasing  verdict.  I  '11  be  blanked  if 
I  know  how  you  knew  I  was  not  what  men  said." 

"My  dear  John,  every  fellow  has  a  background. 
Some  never  discover  it,  but  it  is  part  of  my  own  pro 
fessional  business  to  find  it  and,  at  need,  to  light 
it  up  helpfully.  Sometimes  it  is  a  spiritual  dis 
covery,  a  true  revelation  of  character.  You  know 
that  I  am  what  is  called  orthodox  and  have  a  creed 
of  conduct  by  which  I  try  to  abide.  It  has  its  place 
at  times  in  the  work  of  my  profession." 

"You  are  fortunate,  but  here  is  Tom  Dagett,  a 
character,  and  by  the  way  I  have  for  you  a  more 
difficult  patient  than  I — this  man  Hapworth,  a  strange 
case,  as  you  may  have  observed.  I  have  purposely 
refrained  from  talking  about  him  and  waited  to  let 
you  observe  him.  Your  coming  has  been  to  me  a 
vast  relief.  We  will  talk  about  him  later.  I  have 
much  to  say.  How  are  you,  Tom  ?  This  is  my  friend 
and  cousin,  Dr.  Heath." 

"Pleased  to  see  you.  Come  in.  It  's  twiddling 
no-account  weather,  neither  man  weather  nor 
woman  weather." 

"Like  some  people,"  said  Heath,  much  amused. 

"Set  down,"  said  Tom.  "It  's  kind  of  fishy  here. 
I  like  it.  It  smells  of  luck,  but  some  folks  don't 
like  it.  Susan  Christian  and  her  mother  was  here 
to-day.  They  won't  bide  here  a  minute.  Ever 
hear  them  two  sing?  It  's  like  bein'  in  meetin'. 
They  come  through  the  woods  singin'  Coronation  and 
Old  Hundred.  Folks  call  them  pennyroyal  Hymns," 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER,  183 

" Pennyroyal!"  exclaimed  Heath.  "Why  do  they 
call  them  that?" 

"  Mother  told  me,  but  I  Ve  clean  forgot.  Fact  is, 
the  sea  's  washed  out  of  me  a  heap  of  things  I  used 
to  know.  I  was  minded  of  one  of  her  stories  yester 
day  when  I  come  out  of  my  door  and  saw  one  of 
them  rangers  pullin'  in.  I  know  the  man.  Seem' 
me,  he  sheered  off." 

"What  's  a  ranger?"  asked  Heath. 

"Well,  he  's  a  no-account  man,  like  what  land 
folks  call  a  tramp.  He  cruises  round  in  a  boat  and 
steals  and  he  's  here  to-day  and  there  to-morrow." 

' '  What  was  your  mother 's  story  ? ' ' 

"Well,  when  I  was  a  boy  one  of  them  rangers  up 
from  nigh  Rocque  Island,  he  come  to  my  uncle's 
when  he  was  off  fishin'.  When  Uncle  Bill  come 
back  his  wife  told  him  what  that  ranger  done.  That 
afternoon  Bill  just  didn't  say  a  word,  but  took  to 
his  sailboat  and  went  away.  When  he  come  back, 
might  of  been  a  week,  he  told  mother  and  no  one 
else.  He  hunted  that  man  way  down  to  Isle  au 
Haut.  He  found  him  drunk  in  his  boat  on  the 
beach.  He  threw  the  oars  and  the  mast  out  of  the 
boat  and  shoved  it  off  and  towed  it  in  half  a  gale 
'bout  nine  miles  to  sea.  There  he  cast  it  off  and 
tacked  round  till  the  man's  boat  was  all  a  wash  and 
he  so  wet  he  sat  up  and  was  sober  like.  He  saw  he 
had  no  oars  and  cried  out  to  Bill  to  help  him.  Bill 
come  nigh  so  the  man  could  hear,  and  says  he,  "I  'm 
Jane  Simmons'  husband,"  and  then  he  just  sailed 


184  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

away  and  left  him.  Mother  said  Uncle  Bill  was  a 
deacon  and  couldn't  on  no  account  have  killed  the 
man.  He  just  left  him  to  the  justice  of  God." 

"He  made  pretty  sure,  Tom."  The  touch  of  what 
was  for  me  tragic  humor  was  not  lost  on  Heath. 
He  said  it  was  a  strange  and  interesting  story. 

Said  Tom,  "Don't  see  as  it  's  interestin'.  It  's 
true." 

Pleased  with  the  distinction,  I  rose,  asking  Tom 
of  the  boat  I  had  given  his  friend. 

"She's  fine,  sir.  Sails  like  a  witch.  You  '11  be 
wantin'  more  lobsters  and  fish,  I  guess.  Mrs. 
Christian  says  you  've  got  more  folks  at  your  camp. ' ' 

"Yes,"  I  returned,  "and  smaller  lobsters,  too." 

As  we  moved  away,  Heath  said,  "Mr.  Dagett  has 
an  eye  on  the  main  chance." 

"I  pay  about  double  what  he  gets  at  Belport,  but 
really  I  do  not  growl.  Think  of  the  meagreness  of 
the  lives  of  these  people.  I  would  rather  give  out 
right,  but—" 

"You  do  both,  it  seems." 

"It  amuses  me." 

"A  queer  name  for  it,  you  old  humbug." 

"Their  quietly-accepted  belief  that  I  won't  kick  at 
being  pvercharged  does  amuse  me,  but  not  Dodo. 
I  am  quite  willing  to  pay  for  my  intimacies.  In 
fact,  Harry,  there  are  in  these  lonely  longshore  peo 
ple  elements  of  human  interest  one  does  not  meet 
in  our  turmoil  of  town  life.  The  comradeship  of  the 
sea,  and  woods,  and  the  limitations  of  more  or 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  185 

less  isolated  lives  leave  the  individual  more  angular, 
less  smoothed,  more  characteristical. " 

"Did  you  invent  that  word  or  find  it  here?  I  see 
that  to  you  this  life  and  these  people  are  interesting, 
but  you  must  somehow  have  manufactured  the  pleas 
ure  and  then  fallen  in  love  with  the  product. ' ' 

"That  is  not  uncommon — one  sees  it.  A  rich 
man  for  some  reason  other  than  from  charity  makes 
his  first  large  gift.  His  self-esteem  rises  and  he 
goes  on,  decoyed  by  self-admiration,  until  the  habit 
of  giving  becomes  an  appetite  of  self-esteem.  I  was 
weak  and  miserable  when  you  discouraged  my  de 
sire  to  come  hither.  Since  I  became  well,  I  have 
found  my  horizons  enlarging.  People  attract  me  as 
they  never  did  except  in  the  mass.  More  things  in 
terest  me,  the  sea,  the  sky,  the  woods,  the  weather." 

I  hesitated  and  then  added  what  I  could  have  said 
to  no  other  man  and  no  woman  except  my  cousin 
Euphemia,  who  would  not  have  understood  what  I 
meant.  "How  far,  Harry,  are  a  man's  morals  and 
his  relations  to  religious  beliefs  affected  by  his  phys 
ical  state?" 

"What  a  bewildering  question.  I  recaU  old  Mr. 
Winsted's  remarking  casually  that  when  he  was  well 
he  was  inclined  to  be  free  handed  and  give  largely 
to  charities,  but  he  never  would  give  or  wanted  to 
give  if  he  was  gouty.  The  other  question  I  cannot 
answer." 

"I  understand  that.  I  am  happy.  I  want  others 
to  be  so  and,  to  be  quite  sincere,  Harry,  I  do  not  want 


186  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

my  present  entire  satisfaction  with  life  to  be  dis 
turbed  by  the  want  of  contentment  in  the  people 
about  me.  It  is  a  form  of  selfishness,  I  suppose. ' ' 

11  The  test  of  selfishness  is  that  it  is  willing  to  de 
prive  others  for  personal  ends.  The  quality  of  your 
own  form  of  selfishness  or  the  shape  it  assumes  is 
rather  rare.  As  my  diagnosis  sent  you  here,  I  ought 
to  be  credited  with  whatever  good  you  do." 

"A  doctor,  who  preserves  lives,  good  or  bad, 
would  have  a  queer  moral  credit  account  if  he  were 
responsible  for  the  after-lives  of  his  patients.'' 

1 '  Would  he  not.     Think  of  it ! " 

"But  to  return  to  my  question,  I  heard  you  say 
once  that  mere  physical  courage  is  somewhat  depend 
ent  on  the  bodily  state." 

"Not  quite  that,  but  a  grave  wound,  long  lasting 
pain,  a  rattling  fall  from  a  horse,  a  railway  accident, 
may  for  years  deprive  a  man  of  what  we  agree  to 
call  nerve.  Just  what  these  things  do  to  us,  the 
explanation,  is  far  to  seek.  There  are  lesser  things 
that  disturb  the  balance  of  normal  control,  those 
mysterious  fears,  the  cat  terror,  the  horse  or  dog  or 
rose  smell,  the  sight  of  blood — " 

"Euphemia  has  that." 

"A  woman  I  knew  acquired  it  on  seeing  a  man 
she  loved  die  of  hemorrhage.  At  last  all  reds  af 
fected  her  and  once  at  a  theatre  on  the  fall  of  a  red 
curtain,  she  fainted." 

' '  How  did  it,  or  did  it  ever  end  ? ' ' 

"She  was  a  woman  of  high  character.     She  went 


JOHN  SHEKWOOD,  IRONMASTER  187 

at  last  into  a  hospital  and  served  in  the  surgical 
clinic  until  she  cured  the  habit." 

"That  is  interesting,  but  here  we  are.  I  want 
you  to  observe  this  man  Hapworth  sharply,  then 
later  I  will  tell  you  his  story.  I  see  Mrs.  Christian 
on  the  cliff  with  Euphemia.  Let  us  join  them. 
Cairns  has  gone  for  a  while.  Hapworth  is  away 
in  the  wood.  I  have  set  him  to  work  chopping 
wood  for  the  tent  stoves,  for  we  have  cold  nights  and 
Euphemia  is  apt  to  be  cross  if  she  is  not  kept 
warm." 

"Ah,"  said  Heath  gaily,  "that  is  another  con 
tribution  to  the  art  of  preserving  the  minor  moralities 
by  coddling  the  body." 

The  petticoats  were  fluttering  like  flags  in  the  sea 
wind  as  we  came  upon  the  three  curiously  con 
trasted  women. 

Euphemia  was  in  one  of  her  enthusiastic  moods 
and  was  evidently  on  easy  terms  with  Mrs.  Christian 
and  the  handsome,  rosy  maid,  Susan,  to  whom  I 
duly  presented  my  friend. 

Mrs.  Christian  said  to  Dr.  Heath,  "So  you  have 
been  to  see  Tom  Dagett.  When  Tom  has  a  chance  to 
talk  he  makes  up  for  lost  time.  The  fact  is,  up  here 
you  don't  get  much  chance  to  talk.  You  get  to  be 
silent." 

"But  has  Tom  no  family?"  asked  Heath. 

"No,  his  wife  and  children  are  dead  and  he  must 
pass  days  without  speech." 

"But  his  wife  talked  enough,  mother,"  said  Susan. 


188  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Christian,  "do  you  just  remem 
ber  that  when  you  are  married.  Cairns,  he  's  a 
right  silent  man  and  you  '11  be  tempted. " 

1 1  Oh,  he  can  talk  enough,  mother. ' ' 

* '  So  it  is  settled,  Susan, ' '  I  said. 

"So  he  says,  sir."  She  was  blushing.  "I  sup 
pose  he  knows.  He  says,  I  do,  too." 

"Ah,  here  is  Mr.  Hapworth,"  said  my  cousin, 
putting  on  her  glasses  and  considering  with  silent 
interest  the  slight  form  and  thin  delicate  face  of  the 
clergyman. 

"We  are  congratulating  Susan,  Mr.  Hapworth." 

"Cairns  is  a  fortunate  man,"  he  returned  gravely. 

"Well,  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Christian,  "marrying, 
I  tell  Susan,  is  a  kind  of  fishing  venture.  You  never 
know  what  kind  of  fish  you  've  hooked  till  you  've 
got  him  in  the  boat." 

Heath  was  delighted.  "How  then  about  the 
equality  of  the  sexes,  Mrs.  Christian?  Between  the 
man  and  the  fish,  where  is  the  equality  ? ' ' 

"Isn't  any,  sir.  Major  Browne,  he  says  marriage 
is  a  republic  or  ought  to  be,  but  that  's  bachelor  wis 
dom — he  's  got  no  experience. ' ' 

To  my  amusement,  Susan  said  quietly,  "Oh,  but 
mother,  you  ought  to  have  asked  him  who  would  have 
the  casting  vote  between  the  man  and  the  fish?" 

She  was  gay,  quick  witted,  and  as  I  found  then 
and  later,  capable  of  unexpected  cleverness.  We 
broke  into  laughter.  Susan  looked  shyly  ashamed, 
while  Heath  exclaimed,  "Casting  vote?  The  chil- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  189 

dren,  of  course,"  upon  which  Susan  fell  to  silent 
consideration  of  a  hovering  fish  hawk. 

Presently  I  arranged  for  Dodo  to  take  Euphemia 
and  Hapworth  to  sail  after  lunch  and  the  doctor  and 
I  pleaded  letters  to  be  written.  Hapworth  excused 
himself.  He  must  pile  the  wood  he  had  cut.  Ev 
idently  he  was  unwilling  to  sail,  and  we  did  not  urge 
it. 

We  were  now  far  on  into  July,  with  beautiful 
weather  but  in  the  woods  a  fierce  army  of  mosquitoes 
and  black  flies  with,  worst  of  all,  the  midge,  the 
pungee  of  Pennsylvania,  possibly  its  Indian  name. 
On  this  account,  except  in  the  early  morning,  the 
forest,  despite  its  beauty,  was  out  of  the  list  of  en 
joyable  things  for  Euphemia,  but  she  became  a  quite 
fearless  lover  of  the  sea. 

There  was  some  unexpected  delay  about  the  shin 
gles  for  Hapworth 's  roof  and  I  felt  forced  to  ask 
him  to  remain.  He  so  quietly  settled  down  as  a 
guest  that  this  easy  assent  added  by  its  contrast  to 
my  feeling  of  doubt  and  insecurity  concerning  him. 
Then  also  Euphemia  watched  him  far  too  much. 
For  the  rest,  he  was  a  quiet,  courteous  gentleman, 
subject  to  moody  silences,  or  again  falling  at  times 
into  interesting  and  interested  talk.  I  had  purposely 
left  Heath  to  make  his  own  observations  of  Hap 
worth  and  he,  though  watchful,  had  as  yet  made  no 
report. 

Euphemia  sailed,  bothered  Dodo  about  his  cooking 
and  amused  herself  with  Mrs.  Christian,  who  had 


190  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

again  a  craving  for  books.  Euphemia,  after  her  way, 
wrote  letters,  many  letters,  but  I  had  declined  to 
humor  her  inclination  for  further  talk  about  Hap- 
worth  and  his  wife  and  began  to  suspect  her  of  a 
desire  to  interfere  in  a  matter  which  was  giving  me 
thought  which  was  presently  increased  in  seriousness 
by  a  consultation  with  my  doctor.  I  was  more  and 
more  sure  as  time  ran  on  that  in  my  newly  acquired 
interest  in  my  fellowmen,  I  was  facing  a  human 
problem  far  beyond  my  powers. 

The  story  is  tangled  up  in  memory  with  many 
days  of  joyful  life,  and  with  now  and  then  a  startling, 
eventful  talk,  such  as  I  had  next  day  when  after  our 
bath  at  dawn,  I  took  Heath  away  into  the  woods  on 
pretence  of  visiting  my  spring. 

He  said,  ''How  still  these  woods  are.  Ah,  there 
is  a  squirrel  at  breakfast. ' ' 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "he  chooses  always  an  open  space 
that  no  lurking  enemy  may  surprise  him  unseen." 

"It  is  curious  to  see  you,  of  all  men,  acquiring  the 
art  of  minute  observation  of  men  and  nature.  With 
me  it  is  part  of  my  professional  outfit." 

"I  am  only  making  use  of  a  quality  I  have  always 
employed  for  practical  purposes." 

"I  see."  He  went  on  up  the  brook  in  what  I  had 
come  to  feel  as  the  most  solemn  time,  the  day  spring 
of  dawn. 

Heath  seemed  to  be  sharing  my  unspoken  thought, 
for  he  said,  "Oh,  Jack,  how  wonderful!"  as  of  a 
sudden  long  lines  of  light  flashed  through  the  forest 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  191 

maze,  girdling  the  trees  with  golden  light  and  leav 
ing  here  and  there  untouched  in  shadow  the  trunks 
of  delicate  purple. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  for  now  I  led  him  around 
the  rocks  and  into  the  open  mossy  space,  where  the 
vast  outrush  of  the  spring  leaped  into  the  pool. 
Heath  looked  a  moment  at  this  generous  constancy 
of  giving  and  turned  to  me  with  a  faint  smile  of  ap 
preciative  pleasure.  He  had  a  way  of  waiting  for 
me  to  say  something,  or  that  does  not  quite  state 
what  I  mean.  It  was  a  way  he  had  of  just  saying, 
"Well,  John?" 

I  said  simply  what  had  been  in  my  mind  as  he 
spoke,  "Oh,  more  than  anything  else,  more  than  the 
sea  or  the  forest,  this  spring  appeals  to  me  as  if  with 
a  definite  personality.  As  I  state  it,  Harry,  it  ap 
pears  to  me  absurd,  but  it  is  real;  an  affection  for  a 
gush  of  water !  To  see  it  utilized,  piped  away  would 
give  me  pain." 

"Well,  and  why?" 

"Because  it  would  destroy  beauty  to  save  some 
man  toil  or  to  make  money  for  him  and  others. ' ' 

"Well,  go  on.     You  are  an  amazing  person." 

"I  do  not  see  why  you  say  that." 

"Oh,  goon." 

"I  was  about  to  say  that  a  spring  like  this  is  a 
symbol  and,  this  is  Hapworth's  thought:  'When  in 
the  ages  man  discovered  the  playmate  Fancy,  and 
her  statelier  sister  Imagination,  he  must  have  found 
delight  as  in  some  live  thing,  in  the  wonder  of  this 


192  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

perpetual  birth  of  purity.'  I  made  a  note  of  it,  as 
interesting. ' ' 

"And  does  this  moody  tenant  of  yours  feed  you 
often  with  this  kind  of  food?" 

' '  At  times,  and  usually  he  is  a  pleasantly  cultivated 
man,  not  out  of  the  ordinary." 

"Oh,  very  much  out  of  the  ordinary.  You  have  a 
queer  menagerie  and  really  are  you  not  unwise  to 
perplex  and  bother  yourself  and  plan  to  help  this 
man  and  that?" 

"You  do  not  think  so." 

' '  No,  I  do  not,  but  you  are  to  me  so  changed  a  man, 
John,  that — well,  the  great  cyclones,  the  earthquakes 
of  life,  a  great  love,  a  great  sorrow,  above  all  the 
recognition  of — but  that  is  the  kind  of  thing  you 
will  never  let  me  talk  of  and  about  which  talk  with 
another  is  usually  of  no  effect.  What  has  come  into 
your  life,  I  do  not  know.  If  it  were  a  woman,  I 
could  understand  it,  but,  my  dear  fellow,  let  me  say 
that  you  are  becoming  what  the  American  man  often  is 
and  dislikes  to  be  told  he  is,  sentimental." 

I  laughed  outright.  "Go  on.  You  can  not  scare 
me  on  the  ground  of  sentiment — anything  else?" 

"Well,  Jack  Sherwood,  you  are  wholesomely  spir 
itualized.  ' ' 

I  knew  it  to  be  true.  I  might  not  have  so  stated 
it  or  just  as  he  put  it,  but  I  knew  that  on  the  whole, 
he  was  right.  I  was  silent  for  a  time,  watching  the 
endless  flow  of  the  spring. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  193 

"I  hope,"  said  Heath,  "that  you  do  not  feel  me 
to  have  overstepped  the  modesties  of  friendship  or 
that  I  said  a  too  intrusively  intimate  thing."  This 
was  very  like  him. 

"Oh,  no.  No,  Harry.  It  is— "  I  was  silent.  "I 
can  not  define  to  my  satisfaction  some  of  the  changes 
in  my  mental  attitudes.  But  now  I  want  to  talk 
about  Hapworth.  It  is  hard  to  get  a  chance  in  the 
camp.  Let  us  sit  here  and  I  will  ask  your  advice.  I 
will  cut  short  a  long  story. ' ' 

"Not  too  short." 

"When  I  settled  here  this  man  refused  to  call  on 
me  and  made  clear  that  I  must  respect  his  will  to  be 
alone.  Jones  spoke  of  him  as  paying  rent  and  as 
eccentric.  I  learned  later  that  he  had  helped  his 
neighbors  in  various  ways.  When  a  storm  unroofed 
his  house  I  asked  him  to  accept  my  camp  shelter. 
Here  is  his  reply.  I  purposely  brought  it  with  me." 

Heath  read  it.  "Well,  what  next?  It  is  odd 
enough. ' ' 

' '  He  accepted,  as  you  see.  I  soon  found  that  I  had 
as  guest  a  man  in  occasional  fear  of  something. 
When  I  called  on  him  earlier,  I  was  sure  I  had  seen 
him  at  some  time.  At  last  I  got  it.  He  was  a  clergy 
man  who  once  asked  help  of  me  for  a  sick  man.  I 
did  not  see  him  then.  What  he  was  doing  here  for 
two  years,  why  he  came,  interested  me.  I  wrote  to 
ask  my  cousin  to  find  out  for  me  what  she  could 
about  him.  His  name  as  it  came  to  my  recollection 


194  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

was  in  fact  Benedict  Norman.  What  is  the  matter, 
Heath?"  I  had  seen  a  look  of  startled  surprise. 
"Do  you  know  him?"  I  asked. 

"I  have  never  seen  him  before.  Go  on  and  I  will 
explain  my  surprise  when  you  have  done.  Tell  me 
all." 

"Certainly.     Here  is  Euphemia's  letter." 

He  read  it  twice  with  care.  "Ah,  the  sad  little 
woman.  Let  me,  as  a  doctor,  consider  this  coldly. 
It  is  a  too  familiar  story,  belief  without  cause  in  his 
wife 's  being  unfaithful,  threat  to  kill  her,  a  shot  that 
misses,  delusion  at  last  that  he  had  killed  her.  He  is 
committed  to  an  asylum,  with  still  the  firm  belief  of 
being  a  murderer." 

"Yes.  It  is  like  a  mad  dream." 
.  "Are  not  our  dreams  brief  insanities?  He  tells 
everyone  what  he  did  and  yet  fears  arrest.  It  is  of 
course  like  the  contradictions  of  a  dream.  The  fear 
of  arrest  drives  him  into  escaping.  How  he  wan 
dered  hither  no  one  knows  and  now  he  has,  or  may 
have,  remorse  and  thinks  he  will  surrender  himself 
to  the  law.  Then  he  hesitates,  is  in  and  then  out  of 
his  dream,  so  to  speak." 

For  a  moment  Heath  was  silent  in  thought  and  at 
last  added,  "You  say  he  has  really  educated  that 
clever  Susan  and  saved  from  drunkenness  the  man 
who  did  him  and  another  human  being  the  cruel  thing 
of  saving  this  morbid  life." 

"Another,  you  say.     What  other?" 

"His  wife." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  195 

"Oh,  yes,  his  wife.     I  see." 

"One  gets,  John,  a  great  respect  in  my  profession 
for  the  complexities  of  this  machine,  a  man.  I  won 
der  how  many  little  corner  closets  of  delusion  are 
sedulously  kept  locked  by  men  whose  lives  seem  com 
monplace.  I  have  known  some  such  cases ;  one  of 
them  in  one  of  the  great  soldiers,  one  in  a  merchant 
of  importance.  Through  years  of  the  ablest  competi 
tion  in  large  affairs,  he  believed  in  a  conspiracy  to 
steal  from  him  certain  papers.  It  resulted  in  a  small 
rather  tragic  incident,  and  his  delusion  became 
widely  known.  This  man  has  the  indecisiveness  of 
his  malady." 

"Let  us  get  back  to  him.  What  course  should  I 
take?" 

He  did  not  answer  me,  but  remarked,  "Euphemia 
knows  then  all  that  you  know?  Be  sure  there  was 
more,  a  background." 

"Perhaps  but  now  you  know  all  I  know,  Heath. 
Oh,  not  quite.  I  brought  him  here  one  day  and 
frankly  faced  him  with  a  commonsense  statement  of 
his  folly.  I  scarcely  shook  his  belief." 

"I  presume  not.  Have  you  a  cigarette,  'John? 
Ah,  I  have  my  case.  A  match,  please.  Let  me  think 
a  little." 

I  too  sat  still  as  the  light  of  morning  illumined  the 
dim  wood  spaces  and  the  endless  babble  of  the  spring 
went  on,  while  I  sat  reflecting  on  the  words  of  my 
friend. 

He  said  at  last,  "I  must  not  venture  now  to  advise 


196  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

you.  I  wish  the  man*were  safe  in  an  asylum,  but 
that  is  not  easily  possible.  Will  Euphemia  keep  her 
hands  off  of  this  case?  She  thinks  she  has  missions 
and  her  pursuit  of  this  matter  may  be  as  full  of  peril 
as  some  other  missions." 

"Good  gracious,  I  will  speak  to  her.  I  thought  of 
that,  but  forgot  it  for  a  time.  You  had  something 
else  to  say  to  me,  or  I  so  inferred." 

"Yes.  Some  five  years  ago  at  Chilton  Springs,  I 
fell  into  a  circle  of  pleasant  Maryland  people. 
Among  them  was  an  ex-Confederate  general,  May- 
nard,  and  his  daughter.  He  fell  ill  and,  in  taking 
care  of  a  very  grave  case,  I  came  into  easy  and  purely 
friendly  relation  with  Miss  Maynard,  a  girl  of  ad 
mirable  character.  After  he  grew  better,  they  went 
to  Italy  where  they  met  Norman.  On  the  general 
again  falling  ill,  she  wrote  to  get  from  me  for  his 
doctors,  an  earlier  account  of  his  rather  obscure  case. 
Several  letters  were  exchanged,  some  of  which  Mr. 
Norman,  who  had  been  very  attentive  to  the  general, 
may  have  seen.  She  married  the  clergyman,  as  I 
heard,  and  her  father  died.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Nor 
man  and  neither  of  him  nor  of  her  have  I  heard  a 
word.  Now  these  two  people  suddenly  reappear  in 
my  life.  If  I  can  help  her  and  him,  I  will  do  it, 
but — the  but  is  a  large  one — the  man  is  dangerous." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"Yes,  I  am  sure." 

"I  suppose  I  dwell  too  hopefully  on  the  obvious 
pleasant  qualities  of  the  man,  his  courteous  ways,  his 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  197 

intelligence,  his  cultivation.  Mrs.  Christian  gave  me 
some  really  good  verse  he  wrote  and  I  picked  up  here 
these  lines  in  his  writing  the  day  after  my  frank 
talk  with  him.  How  can  a  man  be  so  possessed  and 
be  lucid  enough  to  write  like  this?  I  brought  them 
with  me  as  a  part  of  his  case.  Remind  me  to  show 
you  the  other  verse." 

"Let  me  see  the  verse  you  brought."  He  read  it 
with  care. 

I  am  a  child  of  the  earth's  dark  caverns, 

Here  to  find  a  voice. 

Out  of  the  depths  I  come, 

Out  of  the  darkness  flowing1, 

Nor  whence  nor  whither  knowing. 

I  babble  as  babbles  a  man 

With  his  dream  of  ever  living 

To  be  one  with  the  sea  of  hereafter. 

Sport  of  elemental  laughter, 

Rain  am  I,  dew  am  I, 

Born  but  to  live  and  die 

Into  the  earth  anew. 

"Strange  enough,  John.  Rather  better  stuff  than 
some  of  these  paranoiac  cases  manufacture.  The 
other  verses?" 

"Oh,  quite  different,  far  better." 

' '  Let  us  go  home.  Ah,  the  poor  little  lady.  I  shall 
watch  Norman.  I  wish  for  your  sake  he  were  not 
here."  I  walked  homeward  troubled  in  mind. 

The  days  ran  on.  Hapworth,  as  I  shall  continue 
to  call  him,  was  at  times  silent,  at  times  agreeably 


198  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

talkative  and  evidently  found  relief  in  his  incessant 
use  of  the  axe.  Cairns  came  and  went,  while  Mike, 
Euphemia,  Heath  and  I  sailed  and  fished,  as  the  days 
of  July  ran  on  into  August.  My  strange  guest,  to 
my  embarrassment,  showed  no  signs  of  desire  to  leave 
my  camp.  In  fact,  his  house  was  still  uninhabitable. 
Meanwhile,  I  waited  upon  whatever  decision  Heath 
might  reach,  and  observed  that  Hapworth  now  and 
then  stared  at  Heath  in  a  way  which  was  so  notable 
as  to  trouble  me. 

One  day  we  were  at  anchor  fishing  off  Gull  Rock 
and  pulling  up  the  cod  fish  with  success  when  Eu 
phemia  said  to  me,  "Did  Christian  take  my  letters 
to  Belport  yesterday?" 

"Yes/'  I  said,  "of  course.  He  comes  for  them 
every  other  day.  They  were  mailed  this  morning. 
He  comes  for  the  mail  in  the  afternoon  and  takes 
it  to  Belport  next  morning." 

For  a  few  moments  my  cousin  took  no  notice  of 
the  obvious  hints  the  cod  were  conveying  through 
her  line. 

"You  have  a  bite,"  I  said.  "Quick!  pull  up!" 
She  was  so  evidently  far  from  the  practical  business 
of  the  hour  that,  knowing  her  well,  I  connected  her 
absent-mindedness  with  her  letter.  I  had  at  once  a 
misgiving,  and  said,  "I  hope,  cousin,  you  have  not 
been  writing  to  Mrs.  Norman?" 

"I  have,"  she  said  defiantly.  Heath  looked  up. 
"You  men  seem  to  have  just  let  the  poor  wife  drop. 
It  appeared  to  me — " 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  199 

" What !"  said  Heath.  ''You  surely  have  not  writ 
ten  to  her,  Euphemia!" 

"I  have.     As  a  woman  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty." 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  Heath. 

"You  are  disrespectful,  Harry,  impertinent." 

"Cousin,"  I  said,  "you  had  no  right  to  interfere. 
What  did  you  write  ?  You  promised  not  to  interfere 
with  me." 

"I  have  not.  I  knew  her  mother  long  ago.  While 
you  were  thinking  of  the  man,  no  one  gave  a  thought 
to  the  woman.  If  I  am  not  free  to  write  to  whom 
I  please  I  will  go  home  tomorrow." 

"You  can't,"  said  I. 

"How  did  you  know,"  said  Heath,  "that  no  one 
gave  a  thought  to  Mrs.  Norman.  Of  late  I  have 
thought  of  little  else." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Euphemia,  and  put  on  her 
glasses.  "Did  you  ever  know  her,  Harry?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  Years  ago  I  met  her  and  her  father 
at  Chilton  Springs,  a  most  charming  young  woman." 
He  threw  a  large  haddock  into  the  boat,  which  al 
ways  singularly  excited  Mike.  "One  for  me,"  he 
said. 

"And  I,"  cried  Euphemia,  "a  big  one.  Good 
gracious ! "  A  huge,  unwary  lobster  held  on  just  long 
enough  to  tumble  over  the  gunwale  at  Euphemia 's 
feet. 

"  'Ware  ankles!"  I  cried,  too  late,  as  she  drew 
herself  up,  lost  her  balance  and  fell  backwards,  her 
august  petticoats  in  bewildering  confusion,  with  Mike 


200  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

gallantly  attacking  the  immodest  lobster.  Heath 
caught  the  tail  of  the  foe  and  set  her  free  as 
Euphemia  screamed,  for  the  operative  procedure  was 
crude.  I  pulled  up  the  not  light  weight  of  the  angry 
dame.  Very  red  she  was.  Heath  threw  the  lobster 
into  the  fishbox,  whither  Mike  pursued  his  vendetta 
with  disastrous  consequences.  Euphemia  rearranged 
her  skirts.  That  we  did  not  laugh,  as  she  no  doubt 
expected,  must  I  think,  go  to  our  credit  on  the  books 
of  some  recording  social  angel. 

She  searched  in  vain  for  her  glasses  and  failing 
turned  upon  Heath.  "When  you  allowed  this  dis 
graceful  accident  to  occur,  Harry,  I  was  about  to 
state  that  I  merely  wrote  to  Mrs.  Norman  that  some 
thing  had  been  heard  of  her  husband.  It  will  re 
lieve  her  mind  until — " 

"Just  a  moment,  Cousin,"  I  said.  "Did  you  say 
where  you  were,  or  mention  my  name  ? ' ? 

"I  did  not  mention  you.  I  did  not  give  your  ad 
dress.  Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool,  'John  Sherwood  ?" 

"What  paper  did  you  use?"  t 

"Your  camp  paper,  of  course,  but,"  triumphantly, 
"I  inked  out  the  heading  'Camp  Betreat.'  There!" 

"But,"  said  Heath,  "it  was  mailed  at  Belport,  I 
suppose  ? ' ? 

"Of  course.     Where  else  could  it  be  mailed?" 

1 '  The  woman  is  no  fool, ' '  said  Heath.  ' '  She  is  sure 
to  find  us."  I  glanced  at  Heath  as  Euphemia  felt 
again  for  her  too  helpful  lost  glasses,  but  made  no 
comment.  We  were  silent.  The  cod  were  biting. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  201 

"My  foot  hurts  me,  John.  I  hope  I  shall  not  be 
poisoned,  Harry.  I  must  go  home  at  once ;  at  once. ' ' 

I  pulled  up  the  killick  and  set  sail.  Everybody, 
including  Mike,  seemed  to  be  indisposed  to  talk.  "We 
were  soon  in  camp.  Mike  retired  to  Dodo  for  sym 
pathy  and  Cousin  Euphemia  went  limping  on 
Heath's  arm  to  her  tent.  She  was  very  cross  when 
I  explained  to  her  more  fully  that  she  had  made  it 
easy  for  Mrs.  Norman  to  find  us  and  Norman.  She 
refused  to  admit  it,  but  promised  not  to  send  a  sec 
ond  letter. 

"You  see,  John,  I  meant  to  break  it  to  her  by  de 
grees.  If  you  had  consulted  me  and  come  to  some 
decision — " 

"Good  heavens,  Cousin,  what  was  there  to  decide? 
As  soon  as  we  do  come  to  a  decision,  we  will  take 
some  distinct  action." 

"I  think  Harry  makes  too  much  of  the  case.  I 
have  no  doubt  this  man  was  once  insane,  now  he  has 
moods,  to  be  sure,  but  really  who  can  see  that  he  is 
other  than  just  a  man  with  a  sad  past?  I  wash  my 
hands  of  the  whole  business.  I  wish  you  would  ask 
Harry  to  attend  to  my  foot." 

The  doctor  came  at  my  call  and  told  her  what 
was  true  and  restored  her  good  humor,  that  she  had 
a  ridiculously  small  foot  and  perfect,  and  that  the 
lobster  had  left  nothing  worse  than  a  bruise.  Her 
imprudence  left  with  us  an  added  anxiety. 

As  usual  we  made  some  change  of  dress  for  dinner 
for  in  a  camp  one  is  apt  to  get  into  lazy  ways.  Hap- 


202  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

worth  was  always  in  simple  gray  and  Euphemia  in 
some  plain  dinner  dress.  As  we  waited  for  her  and 
Hapworth  I  said  to  Heath, ' '  Keep  Euphemia  in  a  good 
humor  to-day.  We  have  not  done  with  her  but  no 
more  letters  shall  go.  I  will  see  to  that.  She  will 
find  some  excuse  to  write  to  someone  if  not  to  Mrs. 
Norman.  I  can  not  rob  all  her  mail." 

I  remember  how  pretty  was  the  tent  that  evening 
at  the  dinner  hour  with  the  candles  sheltered  from 
draughts  by  the  tall  old-time  glass  screens  Dodo  had 
brought  with  him.  The  smallness  of  this  white- 
walled  dining-room  seemed  to  bring  us  into  social 
nearness. 

Hapworth,  who  was  always  latest  and  usually  able 
to  offer  some  pleasant  excuse,  sat  down  without  a 
word.  It  was  serious  to  me  that  a  man  clearly  well 
bred  could  so  easily  accept  my  hospitality  and  now 
and  then  forget  the  habitual  courtesies  of  life.  I 
observed  in  him  what  Heath  said  was  common  to  the 
morbidly  absent-minded,  that  there  is  little  guard 
kept  on  the  features.  He  said  further,  what  struck 
me  as  interesting,  that  normally  acquired  success  in 
governing  visible  display  of  feeling  was  a  great  safe 
guard  against  yielding  to  a  sudden  storm  of  emo 
tion  and  even  to  prolonged  moods.  I  saw  now,  as 
Hapworth  sat  down,  that  he  had  again  the  occasional 
look  of  watchful  suspicion. 

Cousin  Euphemia  was  in  high  spirits.  Her  ways 
were  difficult  to  predict  or  explain. 

"I  am  entirely  well,  Dr.  Heath,"  she  said. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  203 

"That  poor  lobster,"  I  said.  "Why  should  the  in- 
nocent  suffer?" 

"If  you  dare,  John!" 

"How  did  you  do  it,  Harry,  this  sudden  cure?" 

"Oh,  I  quoted  for  a  charm  the  only  verse  in  Eng 
lish  about  the  lobster. 

"  Hudibras-Butler, "  said  Hapworth  without  look 
ing  up. 

"Suppose  we  drop  a  very  disagreeable  subject,"  re 
joined  Euphemia  in  her  conclusive  way,  just  as  Dodo, 
entering,  said.  "Lobster  chowder,  Miss  Phemy." 
We  all  laughed,  of  course,  except  my  sober  guest. 

"Are  you  morally  capable  of  devouring  your  en 
emy?"  cried  Heath. 

"I  never  eat  it!     It  disagrees  with  me." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "that  you  began  the 
disagreement  by  cultivating  a  perilous  acquaintance. 
You  might  keep  up  the  vendetta." 

"I  never  eat  it,  Harry.     I  consider  it  suicidal." 

"That  becomes  serious,"  laughed  Heath. 

"Life,"  said  Hapworth,  "is  one  prolonged  suicide, 
moral  and  physical.  Day  by  day  we  reinforce  de 
cay." 

Heath  glanced  at  the  set  sad  face  and  Euphemia 
felt  for  her  lost  glasses. 

"I  take  pity  on  you,  Cousin,"  I  said  quickly. 
"Dodo  found  your  pince-nez  in  the  boat." 

' '  Your  terrible  summary  of  life, ' '  remarked  Heath, 

has  been  said,  Mr.  Hapworth,  in  many  ways.  Noth 
ing  is  original.  I  doubt  even  original  sin." 


204  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"At  least  Cain  was  original,"  said  Hap  worth. 
*  '  He  invented  murder. ' '  I  saw  a  look  of  horror  come 
over  Euphemia's  face. 

"We  are  not  very  gay,"  I  said. 

"Gay!"  murmured  Hapworth.  He  appeared  to  be 
lost  to  all  around  him,  self-absorbed. 

Heath  looked  uneasy  and  said,  "We  need  that  lob 
ster  again." 

"Harry!"  exclaimed  Euphemia. 

We  laughed,  and  eager  to  shift  the  talk,  I  said, 
"Well,  we  won't  tell  it  at  home.  Was  Mrs.  Chris 
tian  here  yesterday,  Cousin?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  returned,  pleased  to  be  on  firmer 
ground.  "She  asked  me  to  go  to  church  to-day, 
which  is,  I  believe,  Sunday.  Time  seems  to  have  quite 
forgotten  us  here.  I  told  her  there  was  no  Church  at 
Belport  and  that  I  was  a  Catholic."  Euphemia 
cleverly  rendered  Mrs.  Christian's  amazement. 
"  'Well,  now,  I  never,  and  you  're  a  Romanist!'  I 
tried  to  explain  that  there  was  only  one  church." 

"I  should  like  to  have  heard  that  preachment. 
What  did  she  say?" 

Euphemia  hesitated. 

"Well?" 

"She  did  say,  'The  Churches,  I  do  hear,  have  too 
many  trimmings.  I  don't  go  with  that.  Didn't 
Christ  say,  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together 
there  I  am?  There  don't  seem  to  be  anything  more 
needed.'" 

"In  My  name,"  added  Hapworth. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  205 

"Yes,"  said  Euphemia.  "I  told  her  what  that 
really  meant  and  then  I  asked  her  what  her  sect  was. 
She  said,  'Baptist,  and  you  just  ought  to  hear  our 
preacher.  He  's  good  and  long,  but  we  pick  wild 
caraway  seed  and  chew  it.  That  does  keep  you 
awake.  Most  all  the  old  women  chew  caraway  in 
meeting. '  Think  of  that,  'John.  I  shall  try  it  on  you, 
when  you  talk  science  to  Harry." 

Hapworth  alone  remained  unamused  and  now  look 
ing  up,  said,  "When  two  or  three  are  gathered  to 
gether.  What  two  or  three?  Any  two  or  three? 
'Judas,  Nero,  Pontius  Pilate?" 

"In  His  name?  Hardly,"  said  Heath  gravely. 
Hapworth  made  no  reply.  * 

Euphemia  looked  the  annoyance  she  felt.  With  all 
my  charity  for  an  insane  man  whose  society  I  had 
courted,  I  felt  concerned  about  what  these  reminding 
outbreaks  of  ingenious  eccentricity  of  thought  must 
inflict  on  Euphemia.  I  saw  her  lips  move  slightly 
and  that  she  crossed  herself,  as  I  said,  "I  think 
Heath  has  answered  you,  Hapworth." 

He  flushed  slightly  and  with  recovery  of  his  en 
tirely  courteous  way,  said,  "You  must  pardon  me, 
Miss  Swanwick,"  and  then  looking  down  as  if  in 
soliloquy,  "the  wind  of  thought  bloweth  where  it 
listeth." 

"And  the  tongue,"  laughed  Heath,  "is  its  weather 
cock.  Thanks  for  that  chance,  Mr.  Hapworth." 

Hapworth  made  no  comment  and  Euphemia  broke 
the  next  moment  of  silence  in  an  awkward  effort  to 


206  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

deal  with  a  disagreeable  situation.  "I  forgot  to  tell 
you  a  delightful  story  and  I  really  must.'7 

1  'Let  us  have  it,"  I  said,  pleased  at  any  relief. 

"It  was  apropos  of  Dodo,  who  had  not  blacked 
my  walking-boots  because  the  blacking  was  all  used 
and  none  to  be  had  in  Belport. ' ' 

She  was  presently  my  amusingly  humorous  Mrs. 
Christian,  "My  Peter  has  gifts  as  a  hearer.  He 
does  rest  his  tongue  a  good  deal." 

"He  may  have  acquired  the  habit,"  said  Heath, 
"through  the  tyranny  of  domestic  circumstances." 

"That,"  I  said,  "is  Tom  Dagett's  view  of  the  case. 
Tom  says,  'Christian  and  his  wife  's  like  the  sea  and 
me.  Mrs.  Sea  does  all  the  talk  and  I  've  got  not  to 
answer  back.'  : 

"If,"  said  Euphemia,  "you  interrupt  my  conver 
sation  with  Mrs.  Christian,  I — but,  by  the  way,  what 
is  what  they  call  here  her  spoken  name?  I  was  de 
sired  to  use  it,  but  then  she  was  carried  away  on  a 
flood  of  praise  of  Mr.  Sherwood  and  forgot  to  tell  me. 
She  says  you — " 

"You  may  leave  me  out,  Euphemia.  Her  name,  if 
you  please,  is  Caressa." 

"Not  really?"  cried  Heath.  These  names  that 
commit  the  baby  to  impossible  attainments  may  be 
rather  cruel. 

"She  is  still  very  handsome,"  said  Euphemia 
meditatively. 

We  laughed  and  my  cousin  said,  "I  do  not  see 
that  I  said  anything  amusing.  Am  I  to  have  the 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  207 

floor  or  not?"  Again  she  was  Mrs.  Christian. 
"You  see,  Miss  Euphemia—  Now  that  is  a  queer 
name,  yours,  isn't  it?  I  had  just  to  keep  saying  it 
to  keep  it  in  mind.  When  we  came  here  nigh  on  to 
twenty  years  ago  a  man  from  New  York  was  here 
about  some  land  titles  and  he  boarded  with  us  a 
week.  Lord,  the  brushes  and  things  he  had.  After 
three  days  he  says  to  Peter,  'I  put  out  my  boots  three 
nights  and  no  one  has  touched  them. ' 

"  'Well,'  says  Peter,  'we  're  honest  up  here. 
Why,  you  might  of  put  out  your  watch  and  no  one 
would  have  touched  it. '  Then  that  man  explained  and 
John  said  he  'd  attend  to  it  and  next  day  those  boots 
were  right  well  greased  with  axle  grease  like  Peter's. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  that  man."  We  all  laughed 
but  Hapworth,  who  was  evidently  far  away  in 
thought. 

Nevertheless,  I  felt  that  Euphemia  had  helped  us. 

*  *  I  saw, ' '  said  Heath,  ' '  that  you  lent  her  the  Imita 
tion  of  Christ.  What  did  she  say  of  it?  She  is  apt 
to  have  some  unusual  critical  comment  on  books." 

"You  may  well  call  this  one  unusual,  Harry. 
She  said,  'Now  that  book  is  just  lovely  and  child 
like.  Guess  it  didn't  take  much  trouble  to  write. 
Couldn't  say  I  liked  it.  I  don't  like  imitations.'  " 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Hapworth,  again  in 
terested. 

"That  you  will  never  know,"  returned  my  cousin. 

I  said,  rising,  "Coffee,  Euphemia?" 

"No.     I  am  for  bed.     Good  night." 


203  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  left  Heath  with  his  segar  in  my  day  tent,  which 
I  may  not  have  said,  was  used  on  account  of  its  large 
size  for  meals  when  my  camp  party  increased  in  num 
ber.  To  the  right  of  it  was  my  night  tent  and  beyond 
it,  Hap  worth's.  To  left  Heath  was  lodged  and 
Euphemia  beyond  him. 

The  darkening  night  promised  the  easter  Dodo  con 
fidently  predicted.  I  went  with  Euphemia  to  her 
tent,  as  was  my  custom  at  night,  while  Hapworth 
went  out  on  the  rock  and  stood  looking  at  the  uneasy 
sea. 

Said  Euphemia,  "  John,  I  am  afraid  I  can  not  stand 
this  any  longer.  You  are  very  much  to  be  blamed 
for  not  telling  me  beforehand  not  to  write  to — " 

'  '  Hush ! "  I  said.    ' l  Be  careful. ' ' 

4 'Well,  to  her." 

This  was,  as  Heath  liked  to  say,  Euphemial. 

"My  dear  Cousin,  really — " 

"I  wish  to  explain — "  on  which  I  cried,  "Good 
night,"  and  fled,  laughing. 

As  I  was  about  to  rejoin  Heath,  Hapworth  came 
from  the  rock  and  said,  "May  I  say  a  few  words  to 
you?" 

I  went  with  him  where  to  my  surprise  he  led  me 
far  into  the  wood.  Here  he  turned  towards  me.  "I 
am  going  early  to-morrow  to  my  house  to  put  things 
in  order.  I  shall  come  over  in  the  afternoon  to  say 
good-bye.  I  have  been  too  long  an  intruder  on  your 
hospitality.  I  am  going  on  Tuesday  to  Baltimore  to 
give  myself  up.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood, 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  209 

at  least  by  you.  I  was  right  to  kill  her.  And  the 
man,  I  know.  He  thinks  no  one  knows — that  man." 
Leaning  towards  me,  he  hissed  a  word  between  his 
teeth,  ' '  Heath,  he  too  must  die.  Heath,  curse  him ! ' ' 

Nothing  in  life  thus  far  so  affected  me  as  this 
sudden  outburst  of  homicidal  intention.  "Heath?" 
I  said,  "Nonsense!  If  you  dare  to  use  my  cousin's 
name  in  connection  with  this  insane  delusion,  I  assure 
you,  sir,  you  will  get  into  trouble.  Neither  he  nor 
I  are  very  patient  men.  You  had  better  be  careful." 

He  looked  about  him  with  sudden  timidity  and  ex 
claimed,  to  my  amazement,  "Do  you  think  so?"  He 
was  like  a  scared  child. 

' '  Yes,  I  do,  and  as  for  Mrs.  Norman,  you  are  cruelly 
deluded.  Heath  and  she  never  met  after  she  went 
to  Europe." 

"Ah,  but  there  were  letters,  letters,  and,  my  God, 
before,  before  we  married,  proof  of  their  guilt,  damn 
ing  proof."  He  spoke  with  the  earnestness  of  abso 
lute  belief. 

I  said,  "Don't  you  dare  to  talk  that  way  of  my 
cousin.  "What  nonsense ! ' ' 

"No,  it  is  true!  It  is  horribly  true.  She  has  paid 
the  penalty  of  her  sin  and  his  sin.  She  is  dead." 
Then  he  paused  and  looked  around  him  in  the  dark 
wood  shadows.  I,  too,  was  silent  until  he  added,  ' '  He 
is  alive  and  she  is  dead.  You  don't  know  about  it — 
about  these  two.  I  do — I  have  proof." 

" Proof,"    I    cried.     "What    of?    Nonsense!"    I 
was  at  the  end  of  my  patience. 
14 


210  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

He  became  of  a  sudden  quietly  earnest.  "I  want 
you  to  believe  me.  Of  course,  you  don't  know  as  I 
do.  There  are  ways,  things,  voices  you  cannot  hear, 
by  day  and  by  night  telling  me  what  to  do."  He 
turned  without  a  word  more  and  left  me  standing 
in  the  forest,  an  astounded  man,  unconscious  of  a 
sudden  patter  of  heavy  rain  on  the  tents  behind  me 
and  the  roar  of  the  rock-beaten  surf.  A  moment 
later  I  followed  him  slowly.  For  the  time  I  had 
been  appalled.  Now  I  reflected  on  the  childish  sim 
plicity  of  this  abrupt  revelation  of  an  intention 
to  kill  made  to  the  man  most  likely  to  thwart  it. 
I  had  had  a  look  into  the  terrible  abyss  of  an  in 
sane  mind.  I  quickened  my  pace.  Hapworth  had 
disappeared. 

I  went  into  the  dinner  tent  where  the  threatened 
man  was  writing  a  letter.  "Come  into  your  own 
tent,  Heath."  He  followed  me. 

Heath  looked  at  me.     "What  's  up,  John?" 

I  told  him  frankly  what  Hapworth  had  said.  He 
took  this  amazing  charge  of  adultery  and  the  threat 
of  murder  with  tranquillity  not  shared  by  me.  I 
presume  that  I  made  my  anger  plain  to  him  for,  after 
hearing  me  quietly,  he  said,  "John,  this  is  not  a  mat 
ter  for  anger.  I  told  you  this  man  was  dangerous. 
I  could  not  predict  how  he  would  break  out.  Cer 
tainly  the  charge  against  this  innocent  young  wife 
is  the  worst  of  his  madness.  You  must  have  known 
her  to  understand  what  she  has  surely  suffered." 

"I  am  sorry  for  her,"  I  said. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  211 

4 'And  for  him,"  returned  Heath,  "for  him." 

"Can  you  explain  his  delusion  in  any  way,  its 
origin,  I  mean  ? ' ' 

"Sometimes  we  can  trace  a  delusion  back  to  an 
apparently  inadequate  cause,  or,  as  here,  we  can  find 
nothing  to  explain  it,  and  you  can  not  predict  what 
he  may  do.  A  man  like  Norman  may  seem  to  the 
every  day  layman  rational  and  to-morrow  he  stops 
some  stranger  and  says,  'You  called  me  a  bastard/ 
and  shoots  him.  These  men  are  as  dangerous  as  a 
stick  of  dynamite  in  the  hands  of  a  boy.  I  sent  to 
the  Italian  physician,  at  Miss  Maynard's  request,  an 
inclosure  about  General  Maynard's  case.  As  I  recall 
it  two  or  three  letters  passed.  Then  she  married  and 
I  received  a  very  curt  note  from  Mr.  Norman  asking 
me  to  correspond  in  the  future  with  the  physician 
under  cover  to  him,  Norman.  I  thought  it  rude  and 
very  singular.  Now  I  see  that  it  may  have  marked 
the  beginning  of  his  delusion.  We  have  come  to  the 
explosive  consequences.  I  told  you,  I  think,  of  my 
acquaintance  with  the  young  woman,  but  not  of  Nor 
man's  letter." 

"Well,  he  is  going  away.  I  am  sure  of  that.  It 
is  a  relief  to  get  rid  of  him.  How  it  is  raining ! "  I 
was  becoming  more  and  more  uneasy. 

"Yes,  he  says  he  is  going,  but  he  has  not  gone. 
I  hope  he  will  not  change  his  mind.  In  Baltimore 
he  would  at  once  be  put  back  in  the  asylum.  My 
fear,  John,  my  deadly  fear  has  been  of  Mrs.  Nor 
man's  coming  or  of  their  meeting  elsewhere.  I  am 


212  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

sure  that  she  will  come  soon  or  late.  Pray  God  it  be 
late,  and  after  he  has  gone.  Confound  Euphemia! 
She  may  have  made  terrible  mischief." 

"I  am  sure  he  will  go,  Harry,  and  this  storm  will 
prevent  any  one  coming  from  Belport  for  two  days 
or  more." 

"You  can't  be  sure  of  his  going.  You  can  be  sure 
of  nothing  in  regard  to  Norman  except  that  he  is 
just  now  as  deadly  as  a  cobra.  The  storm  is  a  wel 
come  friend.  I  understand  my  own  danger.  It  is 
perhaps  great.  You  or  any  one  might  have  been 
the  chosen  victim.  He  has  now  or  may  develop  at 
any  moment  a  wild  homicidal  tendency,  but  I  do  not 
mean  to  take  any  madman  risks  unprepared.  I  shall 
be  on  my  guard  while  he  is  here.  Have  no  uneasi 
ness  about  me." 

"But  I  have,  and  shall  have,  until  he  is  gone. 
Why  not  sleep  in  my  tent  to-night?  I  shall  feel 
easier. ' ' 

He  stood  for  a  moment  in  thought  and  then  re 
turned:  "You  may  be  right."  He  took  down  a  re 
volver,  threw  in  loads,  picked  up  his  blankets  and 
hastily  followed  me  to  my  tent  through  a  fury  of 
wind-driven  rain.  We  sat  down  for  a  while  and 
smoked  in  silence.  At  last  he  said,  "I  have  given 
you  just  now  the  impression  that  I  would  kill  this 
madman  if  it  became  a  question  of  his  life  or  mine. 
I  should  not  have  even  thought  it."  He  put  the  re 
volver  on  my  table.  "I  would  take  many  risks 
rather  than  hurt  that  poor  fool.  He  has  no  arms?" 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  213 

' '  I  think  not,  but  I  can  not  be  sure,  Harry. ' ' 

"Well,  he  is  a  feeble  little  man  and  if  he  is  un 
armed  he  is  hardly  to  be  feared.  Listen  to  the 
wind!"  He  threw  open  the  tied  tent  front  and 
looked  out.  "What  a  pretty  effect!" 

Dodo's  care  provided  at  night  a  large  head-light 
lantern  fastened  to  my  red  oak.  What  now  pleased 
Heath  was  the  flash  of  flitting  gold  as  the  large  rain 
drops  passed  through  the  brilliant  cone  of  the  lan 
tern's  illumination.  As  he  closed  the  canvas  he  said, 
"There  's  a  light  in  Hap  worth's  tent." 

"He  often  reads  half  the  night,"  I  said. 

"What  does  he  read?" 

"All  manner  of  books.  Mrs.  Christian  says  mostly 
on  Sundays  Revelation,  on  which  she  remarked  with 
irreverent  comment  that  it  don't  seem  so  very  reveal 
ing." 

Again  Heath  looked  out.  "What  a  wild  night. 
How  the  tent  shivers!  He  must  be  in  bed.  His 
light  's  out."  He  reclosed  the  canvas  and  filled  his 
pipe.  "Match,  please." 

"It  is  time  we  were  in  bed." 

"Not  I,  John."  The  evident  uneasiness  of  a  man 
whose  courage  I  once  saw  tested  when  he  stopped 
a  runaway  pair  of  horses  infected  me  with  like  dis 
trust  of  my  demented  guest.  I  tacitly  signalled  my 
acceptance  of  Heath's  unwillingness  by  filling  the 
pipe  I  had  just  emptied  and  we  sat  down  again,  while 
the  canvas  flapped  and  the  rain  hummed  anew  on  the 
over-cover  of  the  tent. 


214  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  never  have  seen  Heath  as  I  saw  him  that  night. 
At  last  he  said,  "Why  the  deuce  don't  you  talk. 
You  think  I  am  anxious?  I  am,  and  I  shall  be  until 
this  maniac  is  disposed  of  and  his  wife  safe.  I  have 
handled  too  many  human  explosives  to  feel  easy  just 
now."  He  walked  about  the  limited  tent  room,  talk 
ing.  He  was  impatient.  "I  wish  Euphemia  were 
not  here/' 

I  tried  to  talk  trifles,  of  our  boy  days,  and  recalled 
that  famous  iceboat.  It  did  not  succeed.  He  an 
swered  in  monosyllables.  At  last  I  said,  "I  think 
we  are  hoodooed."  He  laughed  and  I  fell  back,  as 
was  inevitable,  on  talk  of  the  man  who  was  to  be 
pitied  and  feared. 

"Is  it,  Harry,  that  this  man  was  born  doomed  to 
this  miserable  insanity?  Could  he  have  saved  him 
self?  Is  there,  was  there  any  physical  and  mental 
self-insurance  possible,  any  predictive  signs  in  his 
youth?" 

"I  do  not  know.  Give  me  the  boy,  the  lad,  his 
surroundings  and  ancestry  and  I  might  guess — or 
might  not,  probably  could  not.  When  did  you  be 
gin  to  tackle  such  questions,  you  of  all  men?" 

"It  grew  out  of  personal  interests  and  thought  of 
this  unlucky  fellow.  Since  my  own  illness  I  have 
speculated  in  the  freedom  of  ignorance  as  to  why 
some  people  live  to  be  old  and  in  constant  health  of 
mind  and  body.  What  physical  insurance  was  there 
on  which,  for  instance,  I  failed  to  pay  the  premiums  ? ' ' 

Harry  laughed.     "To  live  to  be  old  and  yet  effi- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  215 

cient?  The  receipt  is,  'Have  a  talent  for  living  and 
don't  bury  it.'  " 

"Oh,  but  seriously,  Harry." 

"Go  on,  Doctor,"  rejoined  Heath,  smiling. 

"Well,  if  we  knew  all  of  a  man  at  birth,  all  you 
mention,  could  we  not  foresee  at  least  his  physical 
failure  as  life  went  on?" 

'  *  How  could  we  know  all  1  Your  '  if '  is  a  large  one. 
To  follow  on  with  your  speculation,  it  may  be  that  in 
some  men  from  birth  there  waits  a  material  fate  in 
the  organs,  or  in  some  one  organ  of  the  body,  like 
an  actor  behind  the  scenes,  ready  to  take  his  tragic 
part  in  the  drama  called  life.  Any  clever  M.  D.  could 
have  foretold  that  disease  would  attack  you  soon  or 
late.  There  is  a  text  of  St.  Paul  on  which  many 
medical  sermons  could  be  preached.  He  was  more 
largely  wise  than  he  knew,  which  may  define  genius. ' ' 

"As  usual,  Harry,  you  are  getting  out  of  my  depth 
and  I  do  not  read  St.  Paul." 

"And  yet  you  like  the  essayists!" 

"St.  Paul  an  essayist!     Well,  really—" 

"Yes,  but  look  up  the  text  or,  not  to  bother  you, 
it  is,  'The  head  cannot  say  to  the  feet,  I  have  no 
need  of  thee.'  " 

"That  is  clear  enough  and  now  I  understand  and 
can  preach  the  sermon  for  myself." 

"Yes.     You  did  need  it  once,  not  now." 

"You  were  rather  too  medically  mystical  for  me. 
It  might  please  Euphemia." 

"No,  she  would  not  like  it  at  all.     Talk  of  disease 


216  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

or  death  scares  her.  I  did  not  mean  to  be  mystical. 
We  are  only  trying  to  reason  from  rather  misty 
premises. ' ' 

"Then  let  us  go  to  bed  and  dream  answers.  I  said 
bed,  but  I  do  not  mean  it.  We  must  one  of  us  be 
on  guard  to-night.  You  will  watch.  Call  me  at  two. 
Hark,  there  goes  Dodo's  clock.  It  is  twelve.  You 
will  surely  call  me  at  two." 

"I  will.  Bon  voyage  on  the  ocean  of  sleep."  He 
blew  out  the  candle.  I  lay  down  dressed  but  re 
mained  wide  awake.  At  two  he  did  call  me  with  a 
touch  on  my  arm. 

"What  is  it?"    I  sat  up. 

"Nothing.  I  suppose  I  am  possessed  to-night. 
We  will  laugh  over  it  to-morrow.  Wake  me  at  dawn 
for  a  dip  in  the  sea."  He  threw  himself  on  the 
lounge,  saying  good  night,  and  slept  as  I  had  not 
done. 

I  did  not  lie  down  but  sat  in  the  darkness  thinking 
over  my  past  life  and  the  tragic  possibilities  of  Mrs. 
Norman's  too  probable  visit  and  then  of  Norman's 
wild  decision;  and  after  he  left,  what  then?  About 
three  the  patter  of  rain  on  the  tent  ceased.  As  I  was 
intensely  on  guard  I  thought  I  heard  some  movement 
in  the  stillness  of  the  now  quiet  night.  I  rose  and 
looking  through  the  interspace  of  the  tent  folds  saw 
Hapworth,  fully  dressed,  crossing  the  cone  of  light 
from  the  lantern.  He  looked  about  him  and  as  he 
moved  I  saw,  to  my  horror,  the  light  flash  from  a 
wood  axe  he  carried.  He  passed  me  and,  putting  my 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  217 

head  out,  I  saw  him  open  the  canvas  of  Heath's  tent 
and  disappear.  I  picked  up  the  revolver  and  quickly 
returned  to  my  watch.  My  fear  was  now  for 
Euphemia  and  I  released  the  tent  ties.  I  was  to  be 
ready  in  case  of  need.  He  came  out,  stood  a  moment 
as  if  bewildered,  made  a  step  or  two  towards  my 
Cousin  Euphemia 's  tent  and  then  threw  down  the 
axe  and  went  slowly  back  to  his  own  tent. 

Before  dawn  I  heard  Hapworth  moving.  He  was 
gone  when  I  wakened  Heath.  "All  right,"  I  said, 
"but  wait  a  moment."  I  went  to  Dodo's  tent  and 
called  him.  I  said,  "Be  busy  about  the  front  of  the 
tents  until  I  come  back,  and  do  not  leave  them  a 
moment. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir."  Dodo  asked  no  questions  when  given 
an  order. 

"Come,  Harry,"  I  said.  "The  surf  is  glorious. 
What  a  grand  sea!  Come  out  to  the  cliff  before  we 
bathe." 

It  was  in  fact  what  Dodo  called  a  Sunday  sea. 
Why,  he  did  not  know.  It  was  perhaps  picked  up 
in  the  Navy.  It  meant,  and  that  was  plain,  a  boister 
ous  sea,  very  splendid  as  we  saw  it  in  the  rose  glow 
of  the  morning  light.  Swift  currents  and  the  per 
plexing  tideway  of  the  bay  made  huge  disorderly 
billows  which  met  wind-winged  ranks  of  charging 
waves.  I  had  never  before  seen  this.  The  two  armies 
of  tormented  waters  crashed  together  and  tumbled 
and  met  again  and  again  and  rolled  in  on  the  rocks 
thunderous  with  at  last  a  shower  of  spray  which  an- 


218  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

swered  all  the  purposes  of  a  morning  bath.  We  fled 
laughing  to  the  tents. 

"What  fool  man  left  that  axe  out  here  to  get 
rusty?"  said  Dodo. 

''You  might  have  forgotten  it,"  I  said. 

He  took  me  seriously.  "No,  sir.  That  's  Mr.  Hap- 
worth's  axe.  He  went  away  before  you  was  up.  He 
took  one  of  his  bags,  said  he  'd  be  back  to-night  for 
the  other.  Didn't  want  any  help  when  I  said  I  'd 
carry  his  dunnage." 

"Did  he  say  just  when  he  would  return?" 

"No,  sir.  He  's  crazy,  that  man.  I  'm  glad  he  's 
going. ' '  After  dressing,  we  went  again  on  to  the  rock, 
keeping  a  more  respectful  distance,  and  watched  the 
ever-fascinating  spectacle  of  a  storm-driven  ocean. 

"There  will  be  no  Mrs.  Norman  here  to-day,"  said 
Heath. 

"No.  And  I  trust  not  to-morrow,  in  fact,  not  at 
all,  I  hope.  Even  a  man  would  not  care  to  sail  over 
here  in  that  sea." 

"She  will  come,"  he  said  confidently,  "but  some 
thing  has  delayed  her.  Could  she  drive  up  and  walk 
through  the  woods?" 

"No,  no,"  I  said,  "hardly.  Come  in  before  break 
fast.  I  must  go  and  get  my  sleep.  I  had  none  last 
night." 

Euphemia  rarely  appeared  at  breakfast.  Just  now 
she  was  presumably  engaged  in  what  she  called 
her  morning  meditations.  They  were  audible  at 
times,  but  to  me  at  least  incomprehensible.  Then  I 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  219 

had  my  delayed  chance  of  telling  Heath  my  rather 
grim  story  of  the  night.  He  took  it  very  quietly. 

"Your  insisting  on  my  sharing  your  tent  probably 
saved  my  life.  I  wish  we  were  surely  rid  of  that 
man.  If  after  he  has  left,  Mrs.  Norman  should  come, 
we  must  keep  her.  Somehow  we  must  keep  them 
apart  until  he  is  in  some  way  cared  for." 

1 '  We  will  keep  her, ' '  I  said.  I  saw  and  shared  his 
anxiety  and  felt  relieved  that  we  might  not  have  to 
meet  the  consequences  of  Euphemia's  meddling. 

The  day  was  clear,  with  a  norther  still  blowing 
wholesome  with  the  freshness  of  the  snowy  northland, 
a  great  roaring  Viking  wind.  This  morning  Eu- 
phemia  appeared  at  breakfast.  You  never  could  tell 
what  she  would  do. 

"Another  plate,  Dodo,"  I  said. 

"The  chipmonks  were  holding  a  riotous  camp- 
meeting  on  my  tent  last  night,"  said  my  cousin. 

' l  That  is  unusual  on  these  stirring  nights. ' ' 

1 '  Thought  you  had  a  fancy  for  monks, ' '  said  Heath. 

"That  is  a  very  meagre  joke,  Harry,  and  imperti 
nent!" 

"I  like  meagre  jests,  Cousin."  They  played  a  gay 
game  of  small  talk,  everyone  feeling  the  uplift  of  the 
dry  north  wind  and  the  absence  of  Norman. 

No  sailing  was  desirable  for  man  or  woman ;  but  the 
surf  was  of  a  never-ending,  changeful  splendor  as  the 
tide  grew  to  full  of  flood.  Euphemia  was  never 
bored,  and  needed  no  attention.  The  day  wore  on 
with  the  usual  routine  until  after  lunch,  when  Mrs. 


£20  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Christian  appeared,  about  four  o'clock,  with  wild 
strawberries,  and  Euphemia  took  her  away  at  once 
to  her  tent  for  a  talk  I  would  have  liked  to  have 
heard. 

Heath  and  I  lingered  in  the  dining  tent,  lazily 
smoking,  and  at  last  I  said,  "Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  Cousin  Euphemia  has  at  present  her  usual 
confident  hopes  of  a  convert?" 

"Oh,  yes,  'John.  It  is  a  favorite  game  with  the 
cousin  and  she  plays  it  badly — but  she  plays  it." 

"I  suppose,  Harry,  you  know  nothing  of  what  took 
Euphemia  away  from  the  church  of  our  own  people  ? ' ' 

"No,  I,  of  course,  know  nothing.  It  was  long  be 
fore  I  came  to  the  city.  It  made  a  needless  row  in 
the  family." 

I  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "She  would  be 
a  good  woman  in  any  church.  What  captured  her 
was  the  mystical.  The  more  of  it  the  better,  and  yet 
the  simplest  belief  is  hard  enough  for  some  of  us. 
When  century  after  century  added  more  mysteries 
to  the  simplicities  of  an  earlier  day  they  found  some 
appetite  in  man  for  that  which  the  few  found  hard 
to  digest.  Some  nations  have  found  it  so." 

Heath,  as  I  went  on  speaking,  looked  at  me  with 
increasing  attention.  I  ceased,  aware  that  I  was  on 
ground  we  had  never  moved  over  together. 

He  said,  as  I  pondered,  "Well,  well,  Jack?"  which 
in  fact  is  interrogative,  although  no  dictionary  says 
so. 

"I  was  about  to  say  that  it  is  explained  by  the  fact 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  221 

that  Euphemia's  early  friends  were  among  the 
emigres  Catholic  French,  to  one  of  whom  she  went  to 
school.  Some  people  drift  through  life,  some  people 
sail  or  are  towed.  Euphemia  drifts." 

"Or  now  and  then  steams,"  laughed  Heath. 

"Euphemia  drifts,  now  and  then  she  sails  a  little 
and  very  rarely  steams." 

"What  you  say  of  her  as  fascinated  by  the  mystical 
is  true.  She  has  tentacles  of  eager  faith  out  in  loving 
search  of  the  mystical.  Did  you  notice  how  at  once 
she  accepted  the  less  obvious  explanation  of  poor  Nor 
man's  day  dream  at  Assisi?" 

"Yes,  it  was  she  who  said  it  was  St.  Francis  and 
in  her  really  childlike  way  that  it  ought  to  make 
Norman  a  Catholic." 

"She  got  her  answer,"  said  Heath.  "As  one  sees 
the  religious  movements  of  the  day  nothing  is  more 
surprising  to  men  at  anchor  than  the  continuous 
drifts  from  sect  to  sect,  to  and  fro,  and,  as  I  said, 
our  cousin  drifted  and  is  amazed  that  others  cannot. ' ' 

"But,"  I  returned,  "more  wonderful  to  me  are  the 
single  text  sects  or  in  the  greater  churches,  the  idol 
atry  of  forms.  One  may  like  them  but  they  can 
never  be  for  me  essentials.  They  are  for  some  men. 
Over  them  all  rises  the  peasant  Christ,  from  whose 
divine  simplicities  were  born  as  the  ages  ran  on  these 
myriad-minded  ways  of  interpreting  Him. 

"Go  on,"  said  Heath. 

"No," -I  said,  rising.  "This  is  matter  for  talk  at 
night  when  no  sunshine  invites  the  mind  to  lazily 


222  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

loiter.  You  may  be  at  ease,"  I  cried  laughing, 
"about  Mrs.  Christian;  not  John  Knox  were  more 
easy  to  convert  and  we  are  secure  too  of  Mrs.  Nor 
man's  absence.  Few  men  and  no  woman  would  care 
to  cross  that  sea  to-day.  But  wait  a  moment."  I 
called  Dodo.  "We  are  going  to  see  Dagett,"  I  said. 
"Keep  to  the  camp  while  we  are  away  and  if  Mr. 
Hapworth  returns,  be  watchful."  Dodo  expressed 
no  surprise.  "You  understand  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Would  you  rather  not  leave  the  camp,  Harry?" 
I  said. 

"Why  not?  We  shall  be  back  in  an  hour.  Come, 
John." 

We  went  away  up  the  beach  for  a  time  in  silence. 
As  we  paused  to  look  at  an  unusually  lofty  billow, 
the  spray  rainbow-crowned,  Harry  said,  gravely,  "In 
all  the  years  I  have  known  you  and  often  as  we 
have  talked,  never  before  have  we  got  on  to  the  sub 
ject  of  religions." 

"No,  Harry.  Men  rarely  talk  of  it.  I,  least  of 
all,  have  been  so  minded." 

"But  you  think  of  it,  John?" 

"Yes.  Here,  of  late — often.  I  suppose,  Harry, 
that  men  do  not  talk  of  this  most  eminent  of  life's 
affairs  because — take  care,  what  a  wall  of  water!" 
We  ran  up  the  the  beach,  salt  sprayed. 

"Well,  go  on,  John." 

"No,"  I  said,  "another  time," 

"I  am  sorry." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  223 

The  sea  was  talking  enough  for  me.  At  last  Heath 
said  : 

"I  wanted  to  hear  more.  You  know,  John,  that 
even  between  life-long  friends  there  are  personal 
boundaries  which  sensitive  men  hesitate  to  cross. 
They  are  guarded  by  good  manners  or  by  some  del 
icately-felt  convictions  that  there  are  subjects  so 
sacred  that  silence  is  best — unless  the  other  man  in 
vites  speech." 

A  little  wondering  what  he  meant,  I  said,  "What 
do  you  mean — not  only  about  religion?" 

"No,  nor  creeds.  I  mean  that  just  this  has  hap 
pened.  In  all  these  years  of  hundreds  of  talks,  this 
serious  side  of  you  I  have  never  seen.  So  far,  my 
dear  John,  you  are  new  to  me,  surprisingly  new.  I 
realize  that  you  are  for  me  another  you  than  you 
were.  To  know  wholly  a  man  you  have  loved  is  worth 
much,  even  through  disasters,  calamities,  whatever 
justified  the  respect,  held  beforehand  with  earth's 
imperfect  knowledge.  Not  often,  John,  does  a  man 
attain  in  this  world  these  realizations  in  all  their 
fullness.  In  some  other  world  husband  and  wife, 
brothers,  friends,  may  say,  here  at  last  is  the  soul 
we  never  knew." 

"There  will  be  some  queer  surprises,  Harry,"  I 
smiled.  "One  might  not  recognize  that  other  you. 
How  appalling  or  how  relieving  to  have  the  privilege 
of  such  recognition  or  not. ' ' 

"Now  don't  be  cynical,"  he  returned.     "I  was  se- 


224  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Were  you,  indeed.  I  was  reflecting  that  I  had 
as  to  this  matter  the  better  of  you  in  advanced 
knowledge  of  a  man  I  have  known  so  long." 

' '  Thanks,  I  could  answer  you,  but,  ah,  here  we  are, 
and  what  a  handsome  young  woman!"  She  had 
just  come  out  of  the  cabin  with  Tom  and  a  boy 
six  or  seven  years  old  and  was  carrying  a  pail  of 
lobsters.  I  spoke  to  her  and  stopped  to  pet  the  child 
and  empty  my  pockets  of  pennies,  shyly  accepted. 
They  went  away  along  the  beach. 

"We  went  in  and  sat  down.  "Who,"  I  asked,  "is 
that  girl,  Tom?" 

"Oh,  she  's  Spruce  Holloway's  girl.  He  's  dead. 
That  's  her  child — the  boy.  If  Spruce  had  a  been 
alive,  there 'd  of  been  a  buckshot  marriage." 

"A  buckshot  marriage?"  queried  Heath.  "Oh,  I 
see." 

1 '  Yes,  he  'd  of  made  the  man  marry  her.  He  went 
west,  that  man — the  child's  father,  I  mean." 

"Pitiful  indeed,  "said  I. 

"Down  this  way,"  said  Tom,  "we  call  them  there 
girls  broken  wings." 

"That  is  pathetic,"  said  Heath.     "Is  it  common?" 

"Not  nowadays.  Used  to  be.  Nice  girl,  too,  but 
she  '11  get  a  man  to  marry  sometime.  There  's  one 
keep  in'  company  now,  I  do  hear.  Fact  is,  she  's  a 
real  good  cook.  Can't  get  a  girl  married  hereabouts 
unless  she  can  cook." 

"I  should  think  you  would  need  a  cook  yourself," 
said  Heath. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  ,     225 

"When  a  man  can  cook  for  himself  what  's  the 
use  of  two  cooks.  Everybody,  specially  the  women, 
gives  me  that  kind  of  advice.  You  ain't  tried  it, 
I  hear.  I  have.  The  fact  is,  a  man's  life  's  always 
a  leaky  boat.  Come  to  put  two  in  it,  it  leaks  worse. 
The  sea  's  wife  enough  for  me.  Where  's  that  man 
Hap  worth?  Hear  he  's  goin'  away.  He  's  a  real 
loony,  that  man;  can't  even  handle  a  dory  of  a  calm 
day." 

Heath  said  that  was  conclusive  and,  much  amused, 
humored  Dagett's  abrupt  changes  of  the  subjects  of 
talk,  plying  the  old  fisherman  with  questions.  I 
heard  only  bits  of  their  chat.  My  mind  was  on  the 
woman  and  the  little  fellow  who  followed  her  along 
the  shore  or  stopped  to  fling  stones  at  the  beach 
birds.  The  woman  who  had  sinned  was  not  consid 
ered  here,  at  least  by  Dagett,  as  a  lost  soul,  or  as 
outside  of  the  happy  chances  of  womanhood;  nor, 
indeed,  had  she  any  look  of  being  hopelessly  de 
prived  of  the  joys  of  life.  I  was  recalled  from  my 
thought  of  what  would  have  been  her  fate  in  the 
city,  by  hearing  Heath  speak  of  her.  Along  this 
coast,  at  least,  at  that  time,  the  social  verdict  was 
not  mere  contemptuous  disapproval,  nor  did  it  in 
volve  a  life  sentence.  This  was  plain  from  what 
Dagett  had  already  said.  Now,  he  added  in  reply  to 
a  question  by  Heath: 

"She  's  been  a  good  mother  to  that  boy.  She  's 
took  her  wages  of  sin  and  complained  none,  and  I 
take  it  she  ain't  really  bad." 


226  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"But,"  I  asked,  "will  the  man  she  marries  care 
for  that  other  man's  youngster?" 

"He  will,  or  he  won't  get  her.  I  'd  take  the  boy 
any  day.  He  's  strong  and  tough,  and  he  just  does 
love  to  go  out  in  the  boat  with  me — and  fish,  and 
get  me  to  tell  Bible  stories.  Jonah  's  the  one  he 
likes  best.  I  've  had  Jonah  swallered  all  sorts  of 
ways. ' ' 

"If,"  I  said,  "I  can  help  this  marriage,  Dagett, 
let  me  know:  I  mean,  if  the  man  is  really  going 
to  make  her  a  good  husband." 

"He  will,  Sir,  he  will.  You  might  think  to  give 
him  work  at  that  new  mill." 

"Well,  we  will  see  about  it.  I  must  talk  to 
Cairns." 

"I  think,  John,"  said  Heath,  "the  woman's  looks 
will  assist  him  to  be  good." 

"And  her  cooking  to  stay  good,"  I  cried,  laughing. 
"The  boy  will  be  the  trouble." 

"Guess  not,  Sir,"  said  Dagett,  and  then  of  a  sud 
den  he  shifted  the  talk  on  to  a  biblical  subject. 

I  rarely  left  him  without  having  received  some 
such  contribution  out  of  his  lonely  intimacy  with 
the  one  book  he  owned.  The  abrupt  turn  to  his 
favorite  form  of  talk  was  as  usual  unexplained  by 
what  went  before,  or  perhaps  was  suggested  by  my 
doubt  in  regard  to  the  little  fellow  who,  even  more 
than  his  mother,  had  my  pity. 

"It  is  time  we  left,  John,"  said  Heath. 

"Got  to  say  something  first,  Mr.   Sherwood;  got 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  227 

to  get  it  off  my  mind,  or  you  mightn't  never  hear  it 
again."  Dagett  had  to  the  full  the  high  self -estimate 
of  the  lonely  thinker. 

1 ' What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"I  've  been  wantin  to  get  your  notions  about  it. 
It  came  to  mind  just  as  that  small  boy  was  gittin 
into  my  dory  Monday  come  two  weeks.  It  was  just 
like  as  if  he  fetched  it." 

4 'Well,  what  is  it?" 

The  air  was  damp  and  the  evening  chilly  as  we 
stood  outside  of  the  cabin  door.  I  was  impatient 
to  get  away.  Dagett  took  his  time,  and  spoke 
quietly. 

"I  was  thinkin'  that  there  ar'n't  any  little  girls 
in  the  Old  Testament.  They  couldn't  of  been  of 
much  account  in  those  days;  and  the  little  boys,  I 
don 't  mind  me  of  any,  if  it  is  n  't  for  that  small 
Samuel  and  Moses,  and  it  might  be  one  or  two  more. 
The  little  children  don't  seem  to — I  can't  put  it  in 
the  right  words — but  it  's  just  this,  Mr.  Sherwood — 
the  little  ones,  the  children,  just  all  of  them,  didn't 
come  to  be  considered  till  Christ  He  took  'em  all 
under  the  wings  of  His  love." 

Heath's  face  expressed  his  pleasure  at  this  inter 
esting  comment,  as  he  said,  ' '  Thank  you,  Mr.  Dagett, 
that  is  really  a  good  thought  and  fresh — but,  what  's 
the  matter?" 

The  fisherman  making  no  reply,  turned  back  into 
the  cabin  and  came  out  with  what  he  called  a  spy 
glass.  He  appeared  to  take  no  notice  of  the  ques- 


228  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

tions  I  put  to  him.  He  stood  a  moment  in  the  fading 
light  and  the  mists  of  the  high-tossed  surf,  and 
searched  the  coast  with  his  glass.  Again  I  asked, 
"What  is  it?" 

And  he  answered,  "Why,  Sir,  there  's  a  sloop; 
it  's  Tom  Weston 's,  lyin'  inside  your  reef.  What 
doted  fool  ever  fetched  her  over  there  and  in  weather 
like  this?" 

"By  George!  Harry,"  I  cried,  "it  must  be  Mrs. 
Norman.  Come,  quick." 

"What  's  wrong?"  said  Dagett,  amazed. 

We  fled  with  hardly  a  word.  As  we  hastened  over 
a  mile  of  beach,  there  was  no  chance  to  do  more 
than  watch  the  surf,  which  now  at  full  flood  left 
but  a  narrow  space  between  the  wood  and  the  sea. 
At  the  foot  of  my  rocks,  on  the  strand,  we  found 
Weston  and  a  sailor.  I  learned  that  Mrs.  Norman 
had,  of  course,  traced  Euphemia  easily,  and  had 
bribed  Weston  to  bring  her  to  the  camp.  She  had 
gone  up  to  the  tents  half  an  hour  before  we  arrived, 
and  had  asked  the  Captain  to  wait,  and  would  I 
send  him  word  what  she  wanted?  He  was  in  no 
hurry,  the  sea  would  go  down  with  the  ebb  and 
make  it  easier.  We  left  him  and  went  up  to  the 
tents,  both  somewhat  relieved  for  the  time.  There 
was  no  one  in  sight.  I  heard  Euphemia 's  voice  and 
another's  in  her  tent.  I  ran  to  the  kitchen.  Dodo 
was  not  there,  nor  Mike.  Returning,  I  found  Eu 
phemia  outside  of  the  tent,  talking  in  low  tones  to 
Heath. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  229 

"What  has  happened?"  I  asked.  Little  things 
worried  and  disturbed  my  cousin,  but  not  the  great 
crises  of  life. 

"I  do  not  know  yet.  Mrs.  Norman  came  in  that 
sloop.  I  was  asleep.  I  was  wakened  by  a  noise  be 
hind  my  tent  and  then  a  cry,  a  woman's.  I  ran  out 
and  saw  men  on  the  beach  and  Mrs.  Norman  run 
ning  forward  between  the  tents,  reeling.  I  caught 
her  and  brought  her  into  my  own  tent.  She  was 
sobbing,  and  not  fit  to  talk.  Something  happened, 
I  don't  know  what.  I  got  her  on  to  the  bed  and 
asked  no  questions.  There  was — I  half  heard  it  as 
I  woke  up — a  great  noise  behind  the  tents,  a  scream. 
Then  I  ran  out.  I  heard  Dodo's  voice,  but  he  is  not 
about  the  camp.  He  has  gone." 

' '  Was  Norman  here  ? "  I  asked  anxiously. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  know  no  more  than  I  have  told 
you.  Someone  was  there.  Best  to  leave  Mrs.  Norman 
to  me  and  send  the  sloop  away.  She  must  stay. 
Get  them  to  bring  up  what  baggage  she  has." 

* '  Certainly, ' '  I  said.  I  went  to  the  beach  and  talked 
again  to  the  men  of  the  sloop,  who  knew  only  that 
Mrs.  Norman  had  paid  them  well  for  a  rather  peril 
ous  voyage.  The  sloop  sailed  away  and  we  went 
back  to  the  tents.  It  was  now  dusk.  Heath  took 
down  the  lantern  from  Dodo's  door  and  we  soon 
saw  among  the  pine  needles  behind  the  tents  some 
evidence  of  a  struggle. 

As  we  looked  about,  Heath  said,  "Norman  has 
certainly  been  here.  Did  he  meet  his  wife?" 


230  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"He  must  have  seen  her.  Dodo  has  gone  after 
this  madman, ' '  I  said.  '  *  He  will  take  care  of  himself. 
We  shall  see  him  presently  and  then  we  will  know. 
There  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait." 

We  went  in  silence  to  my  day  tent  and  sat  down. 
Neither  of  us  was  disposed  to  talk.  Heath,  uneasy 
as  I  saw,  went  at  last  to  Euphemia's  tent  to  ask  if 
she  needed  him. 

"Neither  doctor  nor  man,"  said  my  cousin;  "I 
will  call  if  I  want  you. ' ' 

Heath  returned  and  I  said,  "That  must  be  a 
pretty  resolute  woman.  She  must  have  paid  them 
pretty  well  to  bring  her." 

"I  said  she  would  come,  John." 

I  went  away  and  foraged  among  Dodo's  reserves 
for  something  to  eat.  Heath  was  gone  when  I  came 
back,  and  was  on  the  beach  where  he  liked  to  get 
exercise. 

I  sat  down  alone  wondering  what  had  happened. 
This  drama  was  playing  itself  out  to  me.  It  began 
with  an  idle,  or  I  like  to  think,  kindly  curiosity 
about  a  tenant  and  involving  several  people,  had  be 
come  dark  enough. 

I  became  more  and  more  uneasy  as  the  night  wore 
on  to  ten  o'clock.  Cousin  Euphemia,  large,  spectral 
and  white  in  the  darkness,  came  to  say  Mrs.  Norman 
was  quiet,  perhaps  sleeping,  and  had  hardly  spoken, 
and  where  was  Dodo? 

I  did  not  know,  but  was  sure  he  would  soon  re 
turn.  With  a  quite  needless,  very  feminine  and  re- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  231 

peated  request  that  we  would  make  no  noise,  I  was 
again  left  alone. 

I  had  heard  no  sound  of  approach  when  Mike  ran 
into  my  tent  silently  affectionate  and  behind  him 
Dodo.  His  very  neat  clothes  were  torn  and  his  face 
scratched  and  bloody.  He  stood,  a  dark  figure  in 
the  tent  opening,  with  the  searchlight  behind  him. 
As  usual,  he  waited  for  me  to  speak. 

I  said,  "Come  with  me,  Dodo.  Talk  low."  I  led 
him  away  from  Euphemia's  tent  and  my  own  to 
what  had  been  Norman's.  I  lighted  two  candles  and 
saw  books,  clothes,  and  an  open  bag  in  a  confused 
litter. 

"Sit  down/'  I  said. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Dodo  dropped  on  to  a  camp  stool. 

"What  happened?" 

"I  was  mending  the  stovepipe  in  the  kitchen,  so 
I  didn't  hear  anything.  Then  Mr.  Hap  worth  came 
in  from  the  wood  and  put  twenty-five  dollars  on 
the  table  and  he  says,  'I  am  obliged  by  your  kind 
service/  He  spoke  like  he  does  always,  very  soft. 
I  just  thanked  him  and  took  it.  After  that  he  said 
he  was  going  away  and  where  was  Dr.  Heath?  He 
didn't  ask  for  you,  but  took  my  axe  and  said  he 
must  stake  up  the  wood  pile  and  end  that  job.  I 
said  it  didn't  make  no  matter.  It  was  late.  It  was 
just  after  sundown.  Then  he  went  out  and  I  heard 
him  hewing  the  stakes. 

"Next  thing,  sir,  I  heard  him  say,  very  loud,  'My 
God!'  I  ran  out.  He  was  standing  still  with  the 


232  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

axe  in  his  hand,  like  he  was  dazed,  just  staring  at  a 
lady  behind  the  tents.  She  was  all  in  a  black  water 
proof  cloak  and  a  hood.  Hapworth  he  said  quite 
slow,  'Dead,  dead.'  The  lady  she  stumbled  over  the 
tent  ropes  to  meet  him.  She  cried  out,  'I  am  not 
dead.  I  have  come  to  help  you,  to  find  you/  She 
did  n  't  have  more  than  time  to  say  it  when  that  man 
ran  at  her  with  the  axe.  He  screamed  something 
like,  'I  11  make  sure  this  time!' 

' '  She  ran  back  between  the  tents  and  I  just  caught 
him  by  the  collar  and  put  a  foot  behind  him.  He 
struck  round  at  me  with  the  axe  and  missed  my 
shoulder  as  he  fell,  kind  of  sideways;  grabbed  me, 
too,  and  we  sort  of  fell  together.  Can't  tell  just 
what  did  happen,  but  know  I  wrenched  his  arm  back 
so  he  screamed;  think  I  broke  it.  He  fought  and 
scratched  me  with  one  hand  like  a  cat.  At  last  I 
choked  him  so  he  lay  still.  It  wasn't  long,  not  half 
a  minute.  Then  I  let  go  and  stood  up.  I  thought 
I  'd  killed  him.  He  got  up  and  stared  round  and 
pitched  about  like  he  was  drunk  and  just  walked 
away  into  the  wood.  There  was  light  enough  to  see. 
He  went  faster  and  struck  against  the  trees  and  that 
was  all  of  him.  I  heard  Miss  'Phemy  and  so  I 
guessed  the  lady  would  be  took  care  of  and,  seeing 
that  you  took  an  interest  in  this  man,  I  thought 
you  'd  like  to  know  where  he  went." 

"That  was  right.     What  next?" 

"He  was  easy  to  track.     He  took  up  the  creek  a 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  233 

bit  and  when  I  couldn't  keep  sight  of  him,  I  went 
right  to  his  house.  The  door  was  open  and  he  had  a 
light.  He  was  piling  books  and  clothes  and  chairs 
in  a  heap  on  the  floor.  Then,  sir,  he  poured  the  oil 
of  the  lamp  on  it  and  set  it  afire  and  ran  out  the  door 
round  the  house  and  up  the  road.  I  ran  in  and 
kicked  some  things  into  the  fireplace  and  threw  some 
out  the  door.  Then  I  ran  to  the  well  and  got  a  bucket 
of  water.  I  left  it  safe.  "Wasn't  well  lighted; 
was  n  't  much  oil,  I  guess.  I  went  up  the  road  a  bit, 
but  it  was  dark.  I  did  think  I  heard  him  on  the 
farther  wood  road  a  bit  up  Gay  Mountain." 

'  *  That  was  well  done, ' '  I  said.  ' '  But  we  must  find 
him  to-morrow  for  the  woman's  sake.  Was  that  all, 
Dodo?" 

"No,  sir.  I  stopped  at  Christian's.  Mr.  Cairns 
was  there.  I  told  them.  Wasn't  that  right?  It 
seemed  to  trouble  them  a  heap.  Cairns  went  out  to 
look  for  the  man. ' ' 

"You  were  entirely  right.  Go  to  my  tent  and  get 
a  glass  of  whiskey.  You  must  need  it. ' ' 

"Thank  you,  sir,  seems  I  kind  of  do  need  it." 

"Go  down  to  the  beach  and  find  Dr.  Heath.  He 
is  walking  there.  Tell  him  the  whole  story."  He 
was  pleased,  as  I  saw,  to  have  another  audience. 

"After  that  get  us  something  to  eat,  anything; 
you  must  be  tired." 

Euphemia  had  a  good  report  to  make  of  Mrs.  Nor 
man.  When  all  was  quiet,  I  asked  my  cousin  to  come 


234  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

and  have  something  to  eat.  She  had,  however,  pro 
vided  for  herself  in  Dodo's  absence  and  for  Mrs. 
Norman,  who  wanted  nothing. 

I  told  her  as  briefly  as  possible  of  Mrs.  Norman's 
narrow  escape  from  death  and  of  Norman's  flight.  I 
said  too  that  Tom  Dagett  would  be  sent  for  early 
next  day  and  left  in  charge  of  the  camp,  as  we  must 
try  to  find  Norman.  I  had  in  mind  a  fear  that  he 
might  return.  "A  search,"  I  added,  "must  of 
course  be  made  for  a  man  as  dangerous  as  Norman. ' ' 

Upon  this,  lingering,  she  said,  "John,  I  brought 
all  this  on  you.  I  am  very  sorry  I  brought  her  here. ' ' 

As  she  spoke,  Heath  stood  in  the  tent  opening, 
* '  Whether  it  was  a  wholly  wise  thing  to  do,  Cousin, ' ' 
he  said,  "is  really  not  worth  considering  now.  It 
has  proved  to  be  fortunate  for  Mrs.  Norman.  If  they 
had  met  elsewhere,  something  worse  might  have  hap 
pened.  You  can't  always  be  sure  to  have  a  good 
giant  about  like  Dodo." 

Cousin  Euphemia  was  not  yet  consolable.  I  said 
that  it  was  not  a  matter  to  trouble  her,  but  she  shook 
her  head  in  negative  protest  and  said  what  was  so 
like  her  that  Harry  and  I  signalled  quick  glances  of 
humorous  enjoyment. 

"The  worst  of  it  is,  John,  that  I  know  I  would  do 
it  again.  I  was  sure  that  something  awful  was  going 
to  happen.  I  ought  to  have  warned  you." 

I  laughingly  urged  that  the  opportunity  for  further 
interference  did  not  now  exist  and  therefore  she  need 
not  repent  beforehand.  On  this  she  said  that  dis- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  235 

respect  for  these  intimate  spiritual  premonitions  was 
to  be  expected  from  two  such  heathen.  Then  we 
laughed  until  she,  too,  laughed,  but  said  she  knew  she 
should  not. 

We  were  all  clear  that  Mrs.  Norman  must  be  kept 
with  us  and  guarded  carefully  until  her  husband's 
fate  was  determined,  a  very  difficult  question  as  it 
seemed  to  both  the  doctor  and  me.  Mrs.  Norman 
was  quiet,  my  cousin  assured  us,  and  was  behaving 
with  such  tranquil  self-control  as  Euphemia  con 
sidered  unnatural,  and  would  not  talk  and  was  not 
quite  what  was  to  be  expected  after  such  nearness  to 
death.  I  inquired  if  Mrs.  Norman  had  said  or  asked 
anything  about  her  husband. 

"Not  a  word,"  said  Euphemia.  She  thought  it 
strange,  and  so  left  us. 

"What  with  Dodo  and  Euphemia  and  Mrs.  Nor 
man/'  said  Harry  "we  are  like  d'Artagnan  and  his 
friends  and  will  have  to  go  sailing  to  talk  where  we 
will  not  be  heard  by  someone. ' ' 

"There  isn't  much  to  talk  about,"  I  said,  "but 
here  is  your  chance.  Come  with  me  to  Norman's 
tent. 

We  lighted  the  pipes  and  held  counsel  with  the 
help  of  that  useful  preliminary  silence  which  the 
pipe  imposes. 

"This  is  a  grim  ending,  Jack,  to  your  attempt  to 
run  a  private  insane  asylum.  You  have  my  admi 
ration  and  my  sympathy." 

"Don't  chaff  me,  Harry." 


236  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Not  I.  I  am  very  far  from  that.  I  am  really 
wondering  at  the  courage  and  intelligence  of  your 
charity.  Now  you  are  to  play  host  to  a  sick  woman. 
She  will  of  course  feel  embarrassed  here  and  will 
want  to  go  home  at  once." 

"Would  you  let  her  go?"  I  asked. 

"No,  I  would  not,  of  course  not." 

"Then  she  must  stay.  How  long  she  must  stay, 
we  may  know  to-morrow  after  you  have  seen  her 
and  we  hear  or  don't  hear  what  has  become  of  Nor 
man.  You  seemed  to  think  I  was  foolish  to  try 
to  help  Norman.  You  were  really  half  in  earnest." 

' '  Was  I  ?     Then  I  did  not  make  myself  clear. ' ' 

"No,  and  perhaps  I  am  just  now  sensitive." 

"Pardon  me." 

"All  right,"  I  said;  "I  am  a  little  on  edge  to 
night.  We  must  be  up  early  and  find  this  madman." 

"I  often  wonder,  John,  how  far  men  like  Norman 
are  responsible.  Is  he  no  more  so  than  the  axe  with 
which  he  strikes?  Is  he  hopelessly  hurled  into 
murder  by  the  riot  of  a  group  of  nerve  cells?  Was 
he  ever  in  a  state  to  win  by  effort  the  battle  against 
advancing  insanity?  I  wonder,  I  often  wonder  that 
we  are  ever  well  in  body  or  mind.  Perhaps  we  never 
are." 

"My  dear  Harry,  if  you  begin  at  midnight  a  dis 
cussion  on  the  insanities  of  the  sane,  I  retire  and 
accept  any  conclusion  you  may  reach.  You  and  I 
and  Dodo  and  Mike  will  leave  the  camp  in  care  of 
Dagett.  We  will  pick  up  Christian  and  Cairns,  who 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  237 

is  at  Christian's,  and  search  Mount  Gay.  I  have 
little  hope  of  securing  our  man.  If  he  has  kept  on 
the  main  road,  he  may  be  easily  traced.  If  he  goes 
to  Belport  and  then  home  by  rail,  he  is  enough 
known  at  Belport  to  be  found.  To  westward  of 
Mount  Gay  is  a  wilderness." 

"What  he  will  do,  John,  depends  on  his  insane 
moods.  The  active  mood  of  murderous  fury  is  usually 
brief.  He  may  then  resume  a  condition  of  apparent 
competence  for  the  everyday  things  of  life.  Sup 
pose  we  find  him,  what  then  ? ' ' 

"What  after-course  we  shall  take  depends  on  the 
result  of  our  search.  I  have  become  in  a  way  respon 
sible  for  this  man  and  now  for  the  woman.  If  we 
miss  him  and  he  has  gone  through  Belport,  I  shall 
wire  and  write  to  someone  in  Baltimore." 

"And  Mrs.  Norman,  John?" 

"She  will  stay,  if  I  have  to  scuttle  the  catboat. 
Chance  and  the  isolation  of  the  place  make  me  a 
rajah  here  like  Brook  of  Sarawak.  No  woman  at 
least  can  get  away. ' ' 

"Then  good  night.  Cousin  Euphemia  is  just  now 
penitent,  which  is  rare  and  not  lasting.  She  will 
accuse,  excuse  and  exalt  herself  for  the  not  too  happy 
results  of  her  interference.  She  has  always  had  more 
an  imprudent  pen  than  an  imprudent  tongue  and 
that  is  obviously  hard  to  explain  for  use  of  the  pen 
gives  time  to  reflect.  It  is  always  the  tongue  which 
is  denounced  in  the  Bible  as  the  maker  of  mischief, 
never  the  pen." 


238  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Yes,  'death  and  life  are  in  the  power  of  the 
tongue/  3 

"I  wish  sleep  was.  I  've  had  but  little  lately," 
said  the  doctor  yawning.  "I  wonder  if  Euphemia 
will  stay  awake.  If  she  knows  her  powers  orchestral 
and  their  infinite  variety,  she  will  remain  awake  in 
the  interest  of  Mrs.  Norman's  quiet.  She  once  told 
me  that  only  vulgar  persons  snore  in  sleep.  Eeally, 
John,  Euphemia  is  a  large  contribution  to  the 
humorous  side  of  life,  an  endless  riddle  to  me.  She 
is  capable  of  any  self-sacrifice,  any  minor  folly, 
any  major  penitence  on  account  of  it.  She  has  really 
moods  of  truth  and  moods  when  she  is  quite  un 
trustworthy.  By  George,  she  can  be  unpleasantly 
truthful.  But  she  can  lie  to  Euphemia  and  never 
confess  it  even  to  the  priest  called  conscience." 

I  laughed  out  my  recognition  of  this  estimate  and 
was  checked  by  Harry  with,  "Take  care,  John.  You 
have  acquired  a  fine  talent  for  laughter.  I  was 
serious  about  Euphemia,  thinking  of  the  diabolical 
mischief  a  too  busy  angel  may  create  by  the  use  of 
her  pen-feathers.  I  have  no  honest  laugh  in  me  to 
night." 

"You  ought  to  know  well  enough,"  I  said,  "to 
give  you  a  text  in  return — '  even  in  laughter  the  heart 
is  sorrowful  and  the  end  of  mirth  is  heaviness. '  But 
let  us  laugh  if  we  can." 

"Was  it  there  Shelley  found  'Our  sincerest 
laughter  with  some  pain  is  fraught'?" 

"No,  in  his  life.    Let  us  go  to  bed.     We  have  twice 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  239 

said  good  night.     I  have  tied  Mike  to  the  tent  ropes. 
He  will  be  guard  enough  to-night." 

"Norman  will  not  return,  John,     Best  assured  of 
that.     Good  night" 


XII 


DODO  called  us  at  6  A.  M.,  and  leaving  Dagett  in 
the  camp  with  Mike  and  a  word  of  caution,  we 
went  away  through  the  dim  forest.  "We  picked  up 
Christian,  silent  and  apparently  unconcerned,  and 
Cairns,  who  was  grave  and  had  failed  to  find  his 
friend.  On  our  way  we  discussed  our  plan  of  search. 
We  must  first  look  for  Norman  on  Mt.  Gay.  Heath 
and  I  took  to  the  two  old  disused  wood  roads,  Dodo 
went  his  own  way  with  Mike,  while  Christian  and 
Cairns  separated,  following  trails  through  the  dense 
underbrush  up  the  farther  side  of  the  hill,  agreeing  to 
meet  us  on  the  granite  summit,  some  eight  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea-level. 

At  the  top  I  met  all  but  Dodo.  We  had  found 
no  trace  of  the  fugitive.  After  waiting  a  while  we 
went  down  together,  skirting  the  nearly  dry  bed  of 
the  Chasm  Brook.  The  trail  led  us  over  fern-clad 
rocks,  a  rather  sharp  descent.  About  half  way  down 
Mount  Gay  the  small  stream  falls  some  eighty  feet 
into  a  dark-walled  chasm.  Here  we  were  hailed  by 
a  cry  from  Dodo  far  below  us.  I  heard,  "He  ?s  here. 
I  found  him,"  echoed  by  the  walls  of  the  canyon. 

We  hurried  down  and  entering  the  gorge  walked 
up  it  in  haste.  At  the  foot  of  the  high  rock  wall 

240 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  241 

black  with  lichens  stood  Dodo.  At  his  feet  lay 
Norman,  on  his  back,  his  clean-cut  face  white  and 
still.  Heath  knelt.  In  a  moment  he  looked  up. 
' 'He  is  dead.  I  find  no  mark  of  injury,  nothing,  ex 
cept  a  dislocated  shoulder."  He  continued  his  in 
spection.  "Ah,  I  see,  the  skull  is  fractured.  It  was 
a  fall,  a  fall,  John." 

No  one  spoke  except  Cairns,  who  said,  "Dead?  Are 
you  sure  that  he  is  dead?" 

"Yes,  and  for  many  hours." 

"Was  it  his  shoulder  that  's  out  of  joint?"  asked 
Dodo.  "I  thought  maybe  I  broke  his  arm,  and  it 
was  his  shoulder."  He  was  merely  curious  and  no 
more. 

"Was  it  suicide  or  accident?"  I  asked,  as  Heath 
rose. 

"Let  us  go  up  above  and  look,"  said  Heath,  "but 
we  may  never  know." 

Leaving  the  dead  man,  we  carefully  followed  up 
ward  the  farther  side  of  the  lightly  wooded  edge  of 
the  chasm.  Near  the  top  Cairns  pulled  me  back, 
saying,  "Take  care!  Those  pine  needles  are  danger 
ous  footing." 

"Stop!"  cried  Heath.  "Look,  he  slipped  here. 
See,  his  heels  dug  into  these  dry  pine  needles." 

"He  fell?  You  think  he  fell?"  I  said.  "It  was 
not  suicide." 

"No,  not  that.  He  caught  that  maple  sapling  as 
he  went  over  and  held  on.  Then  it  broke,  as  you 
can  see,  when  he  swung  out  over  the  abyss." 


242  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"By  heavens!  in  the  darkness,"  murmured  Cairns. 

It  was  plain  to  be  read.  The  grip  of  his  one  availa 
ble  hand  slid  down  to  where  the  sapling  was  thin; 
it  broke  and  he  fell.  I  asked  all  present  to  examine 
and  feel  sure  that  it  was  an  accidental  fall.  We 
were  of  one  mind. 

Cairns  turned  to  Dodo.  "Didn't  you  say  you 
broke  his  arm  or  put  it  out  of  joint?" 

"I  did,"  replied  Dodo,  grimly;  "something 
cracked. ' ' 

"If  he  had  had  the  use  of  both  hands,"  said 
Cairns,  "he  might  have  saved  himself.  My  God! 
How  awful!" 

We  were  silent,  convinced.  Quite  abruptly  Dodo 
remarked,  "Then  I  killed  him  when  I  did  for  that 
arm." 

A  moment  I  was  troubled  for  Dodo.  "An  accident 
killed  him,"  I  said. 

Was  Dodo  remorseful?  I  glanced  at  his  dark 
face.  His  white  teeth  showed  as  he  said,  "I  'm  not 
sorry.  He  clawed  me  awful.  He  was  just  a  wild 
beast" 

"Quit  that,"  said  Cairns  sharply.  "He  was  my 
friend." 

"He  wasn't  mine,"  said  Dodo.  "He  wasn't 
his  wife's  neither." 

"Keep  quiet,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  sir."  It  was  an  outbreak  of  ferocity  in 
herited  from  some  far-away  African  barbarian.  I 
understood  it  and  my  man.  My  own  barbaric  in- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  243 

stincts  were  merely  some  thousand  years  further 
away. 

"Come,"  said  Heath;  "it  is  clear  enough."  We 
went  down  the  mountain  again  to  where  in  the 
shroud  of  thickening  fog  the  body  lay.  I  asked  Dodo 
if  he  would  stay  by  it  until  Christian  and  Cairns 
and  some  neighbors  would  return  with  the  means  of 
carrying  it  to  Christian's  house. 

Dodo  shook  his  head.    "No,  sir." 

Cairns  said,  "I  will  stay."  I  laid  a  handkerchief 
over  the  pale  face  and  between  the  black  walls  of 
the  canyon  we  left  the  dead  man  and  his  friend. 

"And  so,"  said  Heath,  as  we  walked  through  the 
wood,  "there  ends  a  tragedy." 

"It  is  not  ill  ended,  if  it  be  really  ended." 

"No,  it  may  not  be,  but,"  returned  Heath,  "I  think 
it  is  at  an  end. ' ' 

"And  the  woman?"  I  said. 

"God  knows.     She  is  well  out  of  it. " 

"Someone  must  tell  her.  Will  you,  Harry,  who 
knew  her  ? ' ' 

"No,  not  I.  After  what  that  poor  fellow  said  to 
you  of  me,  I — you  can  understand.  I  would  rather 
not.  It  is  a  feeling,  John,  not  a  reason.  Certainly 
it  should  not  be  Euphemia,  who  can  only  tell  her  that 
it  was  an  accident." 

"Will  she  want  to  know  the  whole  story?" 

"I  think  so.  It  will  be  well  for  her  to  be  made 
sure  it  was  not  suicide." 

Then  I  knew  it  must  fall  to  me  as  her  host.    I 


244  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

did  not  like  it,  but  I  have  always  disliked  a  reprieve 
from  the  inevitable  of  some  disagreeable  task  and 
when  therefore  I  was  at  the  camp,  it  now  being  near 
to  noon,  I  called  Euphemia  out  of  her  tent. 

"Well,  John,"  she  said,  as  we  walked  to  my  own 
tent,  "have  you  found  him?" 

"Yes.  We  found  him  dead,  from  a  fatal  fall  in 
the  night,  an  accident,  certainly  not  suicide." 

This  tragic  ending  had  an  unexpected  influence  on 
my  cousin.  She  sobbed,  "If  I  had  not  brought  Mrs. 
Norman  here,  this  would  not  have  happened." 

"Listen,"  I  said;  "the  man  was  hopelessly  insane. 
He  was  homicidal  and  wanted  to  kill  Heath."  I 
told  her  briefly  of  the  night  peril,  thinking  to  re 
lieve  her  mind.  The  result  was  as  usual  to  make  her 
minutely  curious  but  presently,  getting  no  complete 
satisfaction  as  to  the  cause  of  Norman's  desire  to 
kill  the  doctor,  of  which  I  said  nothing,  she  returned 
in  a  quite  childlike  way  to  her  own  share  in  the  mat 
ter. 

"I  shall  never,  never  forgive  myself." 

"You  will  forget  it  to-morrow,  or  begin  to  blame 
me  or  someone  else." 

"I  shall.  I  shall.  I  am  foolish,  I  suppose,  but  it 
might  have  been  helped  if  you  had  only — 

"Only  what?"  I  broke  in,  quite  out  of  patience. 
"That  poor  fellow  is  mercifully  disposed  of.  He  is 
happier  dead  and  his  wife  the  better  for  it.  Now  I 
must  tell  her." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  245 

"Why  not  Harry?  It  seems  to  me  that  a  physi 
cian  would  be  the  better  person.'7 

"No,  I  am  her  host.  He  will  not  and  I  must  un 
less  you  will." 

She  at  once  declared  she  would  not,  that  if  Harry 
would  not  do  his  manifest  duty,  I  was  the  proper 
person.  If  she  had  not  brought  Mrs.  Norman  to 
camp,  it  might  not  have  happened.  She  would  have 
to  confess  it. 

"But  she  knows  that  already.  What  is  there  to 
confess?  Euphemia,  you  are  really  inconceivably 
foolish." 

"I  am.  I  am,"  she  cried,  mopping  her  eyes.  "I 
will  tell  her  you  want  to  see  her.  It  is  all  dreadful. 
I  wish  I  had  never  come." 

I  followed  her.  "She  wants  to  see  you,"  she  said 
as  she  came  out  of  the  tent.  I  went  in  and  Euphemia 
walked  away,  tearful,  unfolding  a  fresh  handkerchief. 

The  gray  foggy  day  made  the  tent  so  dark  that 
I  was  aware  at  first  only  of  a  pale  face  as  she  lay  on 
the  lounge  and  of  large  eyes  and  a  hand  meeting 
mine.  There  is  one  thing  in  a  woman  which  is  always 
agreeable  to  me,  a  low  clear  voice,  with  varied  tones. 
Before  I  collected  myself  so  as  to  speak,  she  said, 
"Mr.  Sherwood,  I  have  had  a  life  of  great  sorrow. 
If  you  have  bad  news,  do  not  try  to  prepare  me  for 
it.  Have  you  found  him?" 

"Yes,  he  died  by  a  purely  accidental  fall  into  a 
chasm  on  the  mountain." 


246  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

1 '  It  was  not  suicide  ? ' ' 

"No,  it  certainly  was  not  that." 

"Did  he  suffer?" 

"No,  his  death  must  have  been  instantaneous." 

She  said  nothing  for  a  little  while  and  then  mur 
mured,  "God  has  been  good  to  him." 

"And,"  thought  I,  "to  you." 

For  a  moment  she  was  again  silent  and  then  said, 
"Thank  you  for  your  great  kindness  to  him,  and 
above  all  for  your  frankness.  I  owe  you  a  longer 
statement  of  what  led  up  to  this.  I  am  not  in  a  state 
to  talk  just  now.  Thank  you." 

She  put  out  a  hand  which  was  tremulous.  It  was 
the  only  sign  of  emotion,  for  her  voice  was  clear  and 
distinct  and  never  broke.  I  left  her,  as  she  said, 
"Ask  Miss  Swan  wick  to  leave  me  alone  for  an  hour 
and — she  will  pardon  me — not  to  think  that  even  the 
kindest  talk  can  help  me." 

I  knew  that  I  had  met  an  unusual  character  and 
that  her  amazing  self-command  must  be  due  to  cir 
cumstances  in  her  life  of  which  as  yet  we  knew  but 
little.  For  several  days  we  saw  nothing  of  Mrs.  Nor 
man  and  quietly  arranged  for  her  husband's  burial, 
concerning  which  she  had  no  directions  to  give  and 
no  wishes  except  that  I  would  arrange  it  as  seemed 
best  to  me. 

Just  above  the  road  to  Belport  on  the  northern 
lower  slope  of  Mt.  Gay  is  one  of  those  lonely  little 
graveyards  seen  in  this  half-settled  land.  As  the 
men  climbed  the  hill  with  their  load  I  observed  the 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  247 

too  common  neglect,  the  rude  broken  fence,  the  two 
or  three  marble  headstones  leaning  over,  futile  records 
of  sorrow  as  dead  as  those  the  stones  were  meant  to 
keep  in  remembrance.  More  pathetic  were  the 
mounds  marked  only  with  rain-faded  little  muslin 
flags  renewed  year  by  year  over  the  dead  in  battle 
long  ago.  Here  we  left  him. 

As  the  party  separated,  Heath  and  I  walked  home 
ward  through  the  forest.  I  was  first  to  break  the 
silence. 

"That  was  a  sad  ending,  Harry.  There  was  a  man 
of  intelligence,  cultivated,  unusually  well-read,  kindly, 
charitable,  religious,  a  master  of  all  the  courtesies 
of  life,  distinctly  what  you  and  I  claim  to  be,  a  gen 
tleman."  I  paused. 

"Indeed,  I  share  with  you,  John,  the  wonder  you 
have  in  mind  over  the  contrast  of  this  man's  natural 
character  with  his  actions,  his  murderous  impulses. 
Like  others  I  have  seen,  he  must  have  been  the  merest 
child  in  his  unreasoning  acceptance  of  those  coun 
selling  voices  urging  murder,  and  after  all,  we  must 
believe  him  as  truly  innocent  as  a  baby,  ah,  as  you 
or  I—" 

I  found  it  hard  to  accept  his  verdict  of  utter  in 
ability  of  control  and  said  that  when  I  threatened 
Norman  he  became  scared. 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  said  Heath.  "I  have  known 
cases  where  some  brutal  handling  on  the  part  of 
a  man  the  madman  meant  to  kill,  alarmed  him  into 
a  state  of  quite  lasting  harmlessness, " 


248  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"That  seems  strange,"  I  said. 

"But  true." 

I  said  no  more,  but  went  on  thinking  of  the  horror 
of  a  brain  haunted  by  fiend  thoughts,  forever  whis 
pering  murder  to  one  incapable  of  intelligent  con 
trol. 

The  camp  life  lapsed  into  its  usual  routine,  Mrs. 
Norman  spending  much  time  lying  on  cushions  upon 
the  cliff,  where  Mrs.  Christian  and  Euphemia  sat  and 
sewed,  mercifully  silent,  while  day  after  day  went 
by.  I  had  an  unwilling  guest,  as  I  knew,  but  too 
plainly  she  was  not  in  condition  to  leave  or  endure 
long  travel.  Thus  week  after  week  of  summer  came 
and  went,  while  slowly  her  color  returned  with  in 
crease  of  strength. 

Euphemia,  at  her  best,  assured  her  that  I  would  be 
hurt  if  she  left  us  until  Heath  thought  her  well 
enough.  Now  and  then  she  said  to  me  a  few  words 
of  thanks  or  greeting,  as  she  went  to  and  from  her 
meals  in  a  separate  tent  I  set  up  to  secure  for  her  the 
isolation  I  was  sure  she  desired.  More  rarely  in  the 
intimate  life  of  the  camp  we  had  a  few  minutes 
of  longer  chat,  but  generally  I  so  arranged  as  to  leave 
her  alone  with  Euphemia. 

As  I  had  to  visit  the  mill  and  see  my  newly-bought 
pine  land,  we  contrived  easily  to  be  much  absent  from 
the  camp.  Distant  sailing  excursions  up  to  the 
Grand  Manan  and  Digby  Sound,  the  home  of  Evange- 
line,  twice  took  us  away  for  days  at  a  time  and  thus 
in  one  and  another  way  the  women  were  left  to  them- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  249 

selves.  I  had  in  fact  seen  very  little  of  Mrs.  Nor 
man.  Euphemia  had  wisely  decreed  that  they  should 
dine  alone  and,  under  all  the  circumstances,  this 
seemed  reasonably  to  save  the  younger  woman  from 
needless  social  effort. 

The  woods  were  now  too  early  gay  with  the  colors 
of  autumnal  days.  September  had  come  and  at  last 
all  of  my  guests  declared  that  they  could  stay  no 
longer. 

Some  days  before  they  left  camp,  Mrs.  Norman 
asked  me  timidly  if  she  might  walk  with  me  in  the 
wood,  as  now  she  felt  equal  to  some  exercise  and  evi 
dently  felt  the  need  of  it. 

I  knew  that  what  she  desired  was  freedom  to  speak 
where  she  would  not  be  overheard.  It  was  now  more 
than  four  weeks  since  Norman's  'death.  She  had  not 
so  grieved  with  conventional  sufficiency  as  to  satisfy 
Euphemia,  who  was  on  the  way  toward  doubtfully 
adopting  her  as  a  proper  case  for  spiritual  treatment. 
She  had  proved,  however,  as  I  suspected,  not  quite 
all  that  the  role  of  young  widow  suggested  to  Eu 
phemia.  My  cousin  said  to  Heath  that  she  had 
been  in  no  haste  at  all  about  mourning  dress  and 
was  shocked  that  its  absence  did  not  trouble  our 
guest.  On  this  Harry  brutally  remarked  that  the 
common  sense  of  time  would  dictate  entire  satisfac 
tion  with  this  merciful  divorce  by  death.  Euphemia, 
indignant,  returned  that  the  doctor's  life  had  made 
him  hard  and  that  he  was  a  sad  example  of  the  want 
of  sympathy  so  common  in  a  godless  profession. 


250  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Said  Harry,  who  liked  to  puzzle  her,  "Where  did 
you  get  that  commonplace  wisdom  ?  I  must  tell  John. 
The  fact  is,  Cousin,  you  yourself  are  a  materialized 
spiritualist;  that  for  you!"  and  fled  laughing,  de 
lighted  as  usual  to  leave  her  bewildered. 

With  some  advice  from  Euphemia  concerning  the 
length  of  walk  Mrs.  Norman  and  I  went  slowly  up 
the  brook  where  by  the  side  of  this  comrade  stream 
of  many  moods,  I  had  had  a  path  cleared  so  that 
beyond  the  open  pine  forest  the  underbrush  was  cut 
away  as  far  as  a  trail  was  required. 

"This  way,"  I  said,  and  went  on  before  her — of 
which  matter  whether  side  by  side  or  in  Indian  file 
there  is  much  to  be  said.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  away 
the  path  crossed  a  small  morass  where  stepping  stones 
had  been  laid  by  Dodo,  and  we  came  among  the 
deciduous  trees.  Here  the  way  was  broader  and  I 
could  walk  at  her  side. 

Was  her  returning  health,  which  was  obvious,  due 
to  the  tonic  of  release  from  the  prison  of  a  terror 
too  great  for  human  endurance,  or  to  the  royal  health 
touch  of  the  winds  of  these  coasts?  Something  was 
fashioning  out  of  the  troubled,  broken-spirited  woman 
an  intelligent  creature  who  was  to  have  many  forms 
of  attractiveness  from  childlike  sweetness  and  ca 
pacity  to  be  easily  pleased  to  bewitchment  which  no 
man  can  explain  or  has  explained  since  the  world 
began. 

"The  pine  woods  make  no  record  of  the  decay  of 
fall,"  I  said,  willing  to  distract  her.  "There  is  no 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  251 

autumn  here.  The  pine  is  an  aristocrat  and  has  the 
peculiar  ways  of  his  caste. " 

"Tell  me,"  she  said.     "I  hardly  understand." 

"His  only  autumn  comes  in  the  spring." 

"I  see.  The  spring  is  their  autumn.  Then  they 
only  shed  their  leaves  when  the  summer  is  coming, 
not  in  the  woodland  sadness  of  the  fall. ' ' 

"Yes,  that  is  so." 

I  had  the  suggested  thought  as  she  spoke  that  for 
her  the  full  sense  of  loss  might  not  come  until  she 
was  far  away  in  time  from  the  oppression  of  a  fatal 
hour  of  wintry  fate. 

She  was  silent  for  a  while  and  then  said,  "Ah,  the 
pleasant,  companionable  water.  You  must  find  it  a 
pleasure  to  own  it. ' ' 

"It  seems  rather  to  own  me.  I  am  in  fact  a  di 
vided  property.  I  came  to  this  coast  a  very  sick 
man.  Sea  and  wood  have  been  kind.  They  have 
made  me  well  and  given  me  many  gifts  besides  health. 
I  have  been  a  hard-worked  iron-master,  liking  my 
task  and  little  else.  Here  I  have  discovered  a  new 
world  of  happiness.  As  I  look  back,  it  seems  to  me 
incredible.  It  is  like  the  return  of  a  larger  child 
hood." 

' '  How  incredible  ? — but  no,  not  quite. ' ' 

"No,  not  quite  incredible.  I  was  a  rather  lonely, 
very  imaginative  child.  After  that  I  lived  long  a 
mere  material  life.  Can  you  conceive  of  a  man  find 
ing  himself,  Mrs.  Norman,  his  long-lost  self?" 

1  'Yes,  Mr.   Sherwood,   and  of  a  woman  who  has 


252  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

lived  too  much  in  the  world  of  emotion  without  the 
regulation  of  a  happy  material  life  of  duties  never 
finding  herself." 

This  half  confession  pleased  me.  "But  she  will 
find  herself,  her  true  self."  I  understood  her  and 
to  get  off  the  ground  of  personal  reflections  I  added, 
"Perhaps  it  is  because  my  brook  has  no  duties  that 
I  have  come  to  like  it.  It  quenches  no  thirst  of  cat 
tle.  It  turns  no  mill.  It  is  uselessly  delightful.  It 
shall  never  work. ' ' 

"Never,  I  hope.  How  gay  it  is.  It  seems  to  romp 
and  dance  like  a  child." 

"In  July  it  is  bordered  with  marsh  marigolds  and 
— stop  a  moment ! "  I  had  the  sudden  sense  of  some 
thing  pleasant.  Then  in  an  instant  I  knew  it  was 
because  of  the  fragrance  of  the  twin  flower.  A  faint 
emotion  of  pleasure  reminded  me  anew  of  what  this 
scent  once  brought  to  me  before  the  recognition  of  it 
as  an  odor  had  become  clear.  I  stood  in  brief 
thought  of  this  as  singular  while  I  looked  about  me 
for  the  flower. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "Linnea?  I  do  not 
know  it." 

"The  twin  flower.  It  is  long  out  of  season,  but 
here  it  is,  just  half  a  dozen." 

She  leaned  over  to  look  at  it.  "It  is  new  to  me. 
How  delicate!  How  refined!"  I  observed  that  she 
did  not  pick  it.  "What  a  tiny  thing  to  give  such 
pleasure!  I  wonder  if  it  is  like  music  and  poetry 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  253 

and  is  a  giver  of  unequal  pleasure,  more  to  me  or  to 
you  than  to  Dodo?" 

''Very  likely,  seeing  that  there  are  coarse  tastes  in 
regard  to  odors  as  in  other  things.  The  taste  in 
odors  is  rather  suggestive.  I  am  at  once  prejudiced 
against  a  woman  who  uses  certain  perfumes." 

Then  she  said  gaily,  "I  shall  claim  at  least  a  small 
share  of  approval,  for  I  dislike  all  scents  except 
flowers  and  not  all  of  them." 

"My  cousin  Euphemia  will  agree  with  you.  Are 
you  tired?" 

"Oh,  no,  no." 

"Then  I  must  show  you  the  famous  spring.  Most 
of  my  brook  comes  from  it,  but  at  a  word  we  will 
return!" 

"No,  I  must  first  talk  to  you,  but  not  while  we 
walk.  I  must  sit  down." 

' '  Very  well  then.     We  will  see  the  spring. ' ' 

We  passed  under  and  through  the  autumn  glory  of 
red  oak  and  maple  with  knee-high  on  each  side  the 
varied  reds  of  the  blueberry  bushes.  We  went  on, 
not  talking,  until  I  led  her  around  the  rocks  to  the 
moss-bordered  pool. 

As  always,  the  quick  outleap  of  this  great  bounty 
of  water  between  the  stern  granite  lips  was  a  re 
freshing  joy. 

"Sit  here,"  I  said,  and  waited  to  hear  what  this 
young  woman  with  her  strange  experiences  and  quick 
insight  would  say. 


254  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

She  knelt  beside  the  spring  and  then  looked  up  at 
me  as  if  I  were  to  speak  and  interpret  its  language. 

I  said  lightly,  "Old  Mother  Earth  does  not  often 
speak  to  us  like  this.  What  does  it  say?" 

"Ah,  if  I  only  knew!"  and  then  with  a  pause, 
"but  isn't  there  a  kind  of  joy  in  not  knowing?" 

"Perhaps,"  I  returned.  I  thought  at  once  of  the 
mystical  vague  thinkings  of  Norman  and  a  gleam  of 
explanatory  comprehension  flashed  through  my  mind 
— but  no,  this  was  more  wholesome  reflection. 

"How  cold  it  is,"  she  said.  "The  mere  sight  of 
it  makes  one  thirsty.  How  it  sparkles!" 

The  tin  cup  Norman  brought  hither  was  on  the 
rock  above  her  head.  I  did  not  offer  it  to  her.  Why 
I  did  not,  I  would  have  found  it  hard  to  explain. 
Meanwhile,  still  kneeling  and  making  a  cup  of  her 
hands,  she  drank  as  I  watched  her. 

"Must  I  thank  the  spring  or  you?"  she  said, 
looking  up.  "All  waters  do  differ  so  much.  You 
seemed  in  doubt  when  I  said  there  was  joy  in  not 
knowing,  but  I  do  insist,  Mr.  Sherwood,  that  igno 
rance  may  be  many  forms  of  bliss.  There  is  a  charm 
in  not  knowing  what  this  new-born  child  of  earth 
could  tell  if  we  could  interpret  its  prattle.  Is  n  't  the 
impossibility  of  knowing  all  of  friendship  or  of  love 
and  of  God,  a  part  of  life's  value?  Mystery  is  for 
some  people  the  far  too  cherished  part  of  religion." 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  said  laughing,  "Euphemia." 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  the  dear  lady  loves  it.  But  am 
I  not  right?" 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  255 

She  rose  from  her  knees  as  I  replied: 

"Yes,  you  are  right  for  you.  I  suppose  that  it  is 
for  some  natures  agreeable;  not  for  me.  The  less 
of  mystery,  the  less  of  the  unknowable,  the  better 
I  am  pleased.  I  cannot  make  clear  what  I  mean 
without  too  long  a  talk,  but  I  confess  that  to  have 
Nature  willing  to  explain  herself  too  easily  would 
not  please  me." 

"I  see,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "It  is  a  large  sub 
ject." 

Wondering  how  much  of  this  interesting  little 
woman  I  was  yet  to  know,  I  said  gaily,  "I  shall  tell 
you  if  ever  I  come  to  understand  what  the  baby 
spring  says  before  it  gets  to  the  sea." 

"Oh,  yes.  It  will  be  growing  up.  Do  not  for 
get." 

"No,  but  now  to  make  you  more  comfortable.  Sit 
here."  As  I  spoke  I  folded  a  light  shawl  I  had 
brought  and  set  it  behind  her. 

"Thank  you.  I  am  not  at  all  tired.  And  now  let 
me  talk.  I  wanted — I  had  to  have  a  chance.  I  think 
it  right  to  make  clear  to  you  some  things.  I  have 
been  here,  Mr.  Sherwood,  the  prisoner  of  my  own 
weakness,  for  I  really  came  in  spite  of  every  counsel 
and  I  am  the  wreck  of  all  kinds  of  moral  and  bodily 
storms.  I  got  up  out  of  bed  to  come  here." 

Hesitating  a  moment,  she  went  on.  "Now  what  I 
am,  I  must  explain  a  little.  I  may  have  seemed  too 
cold,  too — well,  I  feel  sure  Miss  Swanwick  thinks  me 
so.  When  my  father  was  long  ill  in  Italy,  Mr.  Nor- 


256  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

man  was  kind  beyond  the  common  and  I  came  to  care 
for  him.  You  would  understand  why,  if  you  had 
known  him  in  his  better  days.  We  were  married 
before  my  father's  death  and,  returning  to  Baltimore, 
within  a  month  this  dreadful  thing  came  on,  oh,  even 
before  we  came  back.  I  did  not  understand  at  first. 
Then  I  knew.  I  lived  a  year  amid  wild  jealousies 
and  threats  of  my  life,  oh,  more  than  threats!  I 
thank  God  that  I  was  able  to  endure  it  to  the  end." 
Sitting  with  head  bent  down,  she  ceased  to  speak. 

Thinking 'to  relieve  her  of  a  trying  task,  I  said, 
' '  I  know  the  rest,  Mrs.  Norman,  all  of  it,  or  enough. ' ' 

She  looked  up.  "Oh,  thank  you.  That  spares  me 
something.  One  word  more,  I  want  to  give  your 
man,  Dodo,  five  hundred  dollars.  He  saved  my  life 
and  indeed  I  still  want  to  live.  Here  is  my  cheque. ' ' 

I  took  the  cheque  and  said,  "I  will  give  it  to 
him." 

"Thank  you  and  you  will  not  misunderstand  me. 
I  tried  to  tell  Miss  Swanwick.  She  did  nothing  but 
cry,  dear  lady,  and  urged  me  to  find  comfort  in  her 
own  church.  I  wanted — oh,  I  did  want  to  explain 
myself  fully.  I  could,  but  not  to  her.  Her  kind 
ness  defeats  me  always  and  I  too,  end  by  crying." 
She  turned  with  a  quick  movement.  "Let  us  go." 

We  walked  homeward  for  a  time  in  entire  silence. 
My  mind  kept  oscillating,  so  to  speak,  between  the 
present  and  the  remembrance  of  a  past  hour  with 
Norman  at  the  spring  when  he  stood  confessing  the 
murder  of  this  woman  who  here  had  told  me  her  un- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  257 

happy  story.  She  had  been  more  precise,  and  nat 
urally  so,  when  she  had  tried  to  tell  my  cousin,  but 
somewhat  failed,  as  I  have  said.  It  was  plain,  how 
ever,  that  she  had  lived  for  months  with  the  fear 
of  being  killed  by  the  man  to  whom  she  had,  as 
Euphemia  thought,  given  herself  under  the  influence 
of  gratitude  so  great  as  to  have  made  her  consent  too 
readily  to  her  father's  wish.  Now  she  was  deeply  in 
debt  to  strangers.  To  them  she  must  make  clear  that 
she  had  done  her  duty.  To  them  she  could  not  say 
that  the  torture  of  daily  fear  and  the  years  of  sus 
pense  as  to  Norman's  fate,  and  her  own  relation  to 
life,  had  left  her  with  what  affection  she  had  ever 
had  neutralized  by  the  cruelty  of  events.  Such  at 
least  was  my  own  inference  after  talking  it  over  with 
Euphemia  and  later  with  Heath.  Her  anxiety  to  go 
home  was  naturally  due  to  a  desire  to  trespass  no 
longer  on  my  hospitality  and  to  settle  the  complica 
tions  of  Norman's  affairs. 

Aware  as  we  walked  beside  the  stream  that  she 
was  too  plainly  living  over  in  memory  a  painful 
past,  I  said,  "You  know  this  pleasant  aromatic 
odor?"  I  picked  the  leaves  as  we  moved  on  and 
gave  them  to  her. 

"Oh,  yes,  the  sweet  fern,  and  this  too,  the  winter- 
green."  She  responded  at  once  to  the  gentle  call  of 
normal  things  and  noticed  the  ripening  beauty  of  the 
leaves  of  the  maple  and  the  bright  colored  toadstools. 
Encouraged  by  a  word  or  two  and  more  and  more 
interested  she  observed  the  many  varieties  of  golden- 


258  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

rod  and  asked  what  the  bees  in  swarms  were  gather 
ing  from  the  spruces.  I  did  not  know,  nor  do  I  now. 
Presently  she  said,  pausing  near  the  camp,  "What  a 
curious  stone!  It  is  wet  and  yet  all  these  granite 
boulders  are  dry." 

"Yes.  I  must  have  passed  it  many  times  until 
Heath  noticed  it.  It  is  a  very  black  dense  rock,  not 
belonging  here.  It  must  have  been  carried  hither 
by  the  great  glacier  sledges  ages  ago.  The  people 
here  call  these  stones  weeping  rocks.  Even  in  dry 
weather  they  are  wet." 

"I  have  heard  of  them.  How  do  you  explain  their 
being  wet?" 

"I  do  not  know.  Ask  the  doctor.  There  are  some 
superstitions  about  them;  Dodo  has  one." 

"Oh,  but  I  must  know."  She  had  again  the  eager 
childlike  way  which  was  so  pretty.  For  my  part  I 
was  pleased  to  have  found  for  her  in  nature  an  hour 
of  relief  from  the  company  of  sorrowful  memories. 

"Ask  Dodo,"  I  said.     "Here  we  are  at  home." 

"It  has  been  indeed  a  kind  home  to  me,"  she  re 
turned,  as  we  passed  through  the  tent  lines.  ' l  Thank 
you. ' ' 

The  September  gales  from  the  northwest  are  the 
only  certainly  predicable  weather  on  the  coast.  One 
of  them  quite  forbade  for  a  time  the  intended  de 
parture  of  Euphemia  and  my  other  guests.  I  soon 
found  that  to  get  to  Belport  by  the  wood  trail  and 
then  by  a  long  drive  was,  for  Euphemia  at  least,  not 
to  be  thought  of.  The  doubt  with  which  she  con- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  259 

fided  her  trunks  to  a  railway  and  out  of  her  sight 
was,  as  Heath  said,  of  mysterious  origin.  I  had  set 
tled  that  Dodo  should  take  the  trunks  by  catboat 
and  that  some  kind  of  a  carriage  would  meet  the 
women  at  Christian's.  But  Euphemia  at  once  de 
clined  this  separation  from  her  baggage  and  had  not 
walked  two  miles  at  any  one  time  for  years. 

We  could  but  wait  on  the  uncertain  September 
weather.  Three  days  of  southwest  wind  and  rain 
tried  Heath's  patience,  as  he  would  have  to  wait  for 
Euphemia  and  was  evidently  eager  to  leave  and  an 
noyed  by  her  difficulties.  A  day  was  twice  set  for 
the  sail  to  Belport  and  twice  the  wind  or  a  fury  of 
rain  forbade.  I  took  it  philosophically,  as  one  may 
the  lesser  calamities  of  others,  but  in  fact  the  camp 
was  becoming  a  bit  out  of  temper. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Norman  must  have  felt  a  certain 
embarrassment  at  being  the  prisoner  of  my  hos 
pitality  because  of  Euphemia 's  whims.  More  than  a 
month  had  gone  by  since  Norman's  death.  Her  own 
bodily  weakness  had  at  first  forbidden  her  departure 
and  now  it  was  my  cousin's  fancies. 

After  these  last  few  days  of  postponement,  Mrs. 
Norman  told  Euphemia  that  on  Monday  or  Tuesday 
she  would  go  to  Belport  in  my  boat,  unless  I  said 
it  would  be  dangerous.  I  declared  that  the  weather 
would  probably  serve  or  that  if  she  decided  to  go,  I 
would  go  to  Belport  with  her,  and  Euphemia  might 
wait  on  the  winds  with  Heath. 

Mrs.  Norman  had  shown  me  no  least  sign  of  the 


260  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

impatience  which  in  Heath,  to  my  surprise,  and  in 
Euphemia,  not  to  my  surprise,  was  at  times  rather 
too  plain.  As  usual,  Euphemia  gave  way  before  a 
decisive  person,  but  said  to  go  in  my  sailboat,  if  it 
blew  hard,  was  tempting  Providence.  Then  for  the 
first  time  I  heard  from  Mrs.  Norman  a  word  of  the 
humorous  criticism  which,  in  some  characters,  no 
calamity  seems  to  keep  in  the  silence  of  unsaid  things. 

Faintly  smiling,  she  said,  "Dear  Miss  Euphemia, 
tempting  Providence?  Why  do  people  think  that 
Providence  is  so  easily  tempted?" 

We  were  standing  near  my  tent  at  this  time  dis 
cussing  the  weather  and  plans  for  speeding  the  part 
ing  guests.  Euphemia,  who  was  always  puzzled  by 
this  kind  of  mingling  of  the  mirthful  and  good  sense, 
considered  Mrs.  Norman's  remark  silently,  while 
Heath  said,  "Mrs.  Norman,  there  is  somewhere  in  the 
Koran — or,  no,  in  some  Oriental  writer,  *  Tempt  not 
God,  nor  yet  the  devil/  " 

"That  certainly  covers  the  whole  ground,"  I  said, 
laughing  as  the  group  separated.  They  did  get  away 
on  Tuesday,  in  perfect  weather. 

I  neglected  to  state  the  unlooked-for  result  of  Mrs. 
Norman 's  gift  to  Dodo.  On  returning  from  our  walk 
I  sought  him  in  the  kitchen,  and  said,  "Mrs.  Norman 
feels  very  grateful  to  you  for  saving  her  life  and  has 
asked  me  to  give  you  this  check  for  five  hundred 
dollars." 

"I  won't  take  it,  sir."  He  spoke  with  unusual 
decision.  "I  killed  that  man.  He  'd  have  been  alive 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  261 

now  if  I  hadn't  have  lamed  his  arm.  He  was  my 
enemy.  I  killed  him.  I  'm  not  sorry.  He  mauled 
me  awful.  If  she  was  to  know  I  killed  him,  she 
would  n  't  want  to  thank  me. ' ' 

I  reasoned  with  him  in  vain.  "No,  sir,  I  just  can't 
take  it." 

When  I  returned  the  check  to  Mrs.  Norman,  of 
course,  without  Dodo's  full  explanation  of  his  re 
fusal,  she  said,  "I  will  then  have  merely  to  thank 
Dodo/'  which  she  did  in  a  kind  note.  I  read  it  to 
him.  He  made  no  comment,  except  to  say  he  would 
like  to  keep  the  note.  When  I  told  Heath  he  re 
marked  that  my  horizons  of  human  experiences  must 
be  enlarging.  They  were  in  many  directions.  I  said 
to  Euphemia  only  that  Dodo  had  refused  the  gift, 
on  which  she  returned  that  it  showed  great  delicacy 
of  feeling,  and  Mrs.  Christian,  to  whom  witH  praise 
of  Dodo  Euphemia  mentioned  it,  that  he  was  a  fool 
and  that  there  were  some  people  no  one  could  under 
stand. 


XIII 

THE  business  of  packing  became,  as  usual,  very 
serious  for  my  cousin.  On  the  day  before  that 
set  for  them  to  leave,  between  unpacking  and  re 
packing,  and  anxious  consideration  of  the  weather, 
she  was  so  fully  occupied  that  Mrs.  Norman  was  for 
the  time  left  to  Heath  and  to  me.  My  cousin,  who 
had  just  received  a  number  of  letters,  excused  him 
self  to  my  great  satisfaction,  when  I  asked  him  to 
join  Mrs.  Norman  and  me  in  a  visit  to  Dagett. 

1  'It  is  over  a  mile,"  I  said;  "will  it  tire  you? 
It  is  hard  walking." 

"No,  I  am  ever  so  much  better.  I  shall  be  ready 
in  a  minute." 

Presently  Mrs.  Norman  rejoined  me,  and  together 
we  went  down  the  rocky  descent  and  walked  up  the 
beach.  On  our  left  was  the  sombre  green  of  pine 
and  spruce,  with  the  red  and  gold  of  autumn,  and 
here  and  there  the  singular  purples  of  the  striped 
maple. 

"An  early  fall,  is  it  not?"  asked  my  companion. 

I  said  as  it  was  my  first  autumn  in  these  woods,  I 
could  not  tell. 

"But  the  sea — the  seal  You  must  have  known 
it?" 

262 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  263 

"No,  sea  and  forest  are  like  new  books  to  me — 
books  in  a  strange  tongue — I  have  had  to  learn  their 
language. ' ' 

"But  you  have  learned  it?" 

"Yes,  more  or  less,  and  slowly." 

For  a  little  while  neither  spoke,  which  is  the  sign 
of  an  empty  mind  or  a  too  full  mind.  Then  Mrs. 
Norman  said,  "I  sometimes  think  that  it  is  the  citi 
zen  of  towns  who  gets  the  most  out  of  nature.  It 
is  so  with  you,  I  am  sure.  All  this  wonder  world 
speaks  one  tongue  to  you  and  another  to  Mr. 
Cairns." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "perhaps — but  these  coast  people 
do  not  easily  reveal  themselves.  They  are  apt  to 
surprise  you  at  times." 

"That  may  be.  The  mention  of  Mr.  Cairns,"  she 
said,  "recalls  to  me  the  fact  that  I  ought  to  have 
spoken  to  him  of  his  rescue — of  my— of  Mr.  Nor 
man.  I  did  not  forget,  but — I  could  not.  Before 
we  talk  of  other  matters,  I  want  to  ask  you  when  I 
am  gone  to  give  the  money  I  meant  for  Dodo  to 
Mr.  Cairns  and  Susan  as  a  remembrance  of  what  he 
did  for  Mr.  Norman.  It  is  a  wedding  gift.  Here 
is  my  cheque." 

"It  will  be  welcome,  I  am  sure." 

"I  have,  of  course,  thought  much  of  what  he  did. 
How  very  strange,  Mr.  Sherwood,  are  the  chances  of 
this  life.  The  doing  of  a  brave  action  has  brought 
back  into  this  man's  life  friends,  love  and  respect. 
What  a  lift  out  of  the  slough  of  self-reproach  and 


264  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

dishonor.  Mrs.  Christian  has  told  me  all  about  him. 
He  seems  to  me  an  unusual  man.  Where  did  he  get 
his  refinement,  his  good  manners  ?" 

"Well,  he  comes  of  one  of  those  cultivated  clerical 
New  England  breeds  which  have  given  us  so  many 
able  men,  but  he  owed  much  to  Mr.  Norman. " 

"Yes,  so  1  have  heard,  and  that  does  make  nobler 
the  risk  he  took.  He  was  far  from  any  hope  of 
rehabilitation.  It  was  the  impulse  of  gratitude  that 
made  him  do  what  we  call  a  heroic  act." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  like  most  of  these  rescues, 
there  was  no  time  for  complex  thought.  This  action 
had  the  abruptness  of  an  urgent  instinct.  You  see 
this  where  children  who  can  not  swim  have  lost  their 
lives  in  trying  to  rescue  comrades,  or  in  the  most 
perilous  of  all  attempts  to  save  life,  the  most  fatal, 
the  attempt  to  stop  a  running  horse." 

"You  like  to  talk  about  courage,  Mr.  Sherwood." 

"Yes.  I  often  regret  that  I  had  no  chance  in  war 
to  test  what  no  man  surely  knows  he  has  without 
some  trial  and  indeed,  Mrs.  Norman,  men  may  go, 
most  men  do,  nowadays,  a  lifetime  in  this  igorance. 
My  conscience  is  at  ease  as  concerns  our  Civil  War. 
I  was  doing  a  better  service  than  if  I  had  been  under 
fire." 

"I  see.  Yes,  I  understand.  Dr.  Heath  is  given  to 
some  friendly  idolatry  about  you. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so.  Don't  trust  Harry  Heath  too 
much. ' ' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  265 

"Or  Miss  Euphemia  or — " 

"No,  none  of  them,"  I  laughed. 

"Not  even  my  own  experience?" 

"No,  no." 

"Well,  I  have  let  you  off  very  easily,  but  it  is 
chiefly  because  I  can  not  venture  to  talk  freely.  My 
thanks  for  kindness  are  out  of  my  power  to  express 
and  always  will  be.  I  suppose  you  will  at  least  per 
mit  praise  of  the  sea.  It  seems  to  be  in  a  good 
humor  to-day.  How  can  it  be  at  times  so  terrible! 
And  yet  I  should  like  to  see  one  of  your  great 
storms. ' ' 

"Harry  Heath  says,  apropos  of  this,  he  would  like 
to  have  seen  once  the  unrestrained  anger  of  certain 
great  men.  He  named  one  or  two.  Euphemia  must 
bring  you  again,"  I  said  thoughtlessly.  "I  will 
order  a  storm  for  you." 

"Oh,  never,  never,  Mr.  Sherwood." 

"Pardon  me." 

"That  is  needless.  You  said  what  was  kind  and 
natural.  I  may  come  to  see  things  differently.  To 
associate  all  this  endless  beauty  of  sea  and  wood  with 
our  poor  human  disasters  so  as  to  lose  its  true  value 
is,  I  suppose,  unreasonable." 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Norman,  it  is  not  as  I  think  of  it  a 
thing  we  can  settle  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  reason." 

"You  are  right,  quite  right.  I  carry  away  some 
pleasant  memories,  some  things  I  want  never  to  for 
get,  never,  unending  kindness,  thoughtful  considera- 


266  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

tion  and — please  not  to  protest,  Mr.  Sherwood — yes, 
I  know  you  are  one  of  the  men  who  are  embarrassed 
and  annoyed  by  thanks. " 

It  was  true.  I  did  not  know  how  she  knew  it. 
For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  me  to  be  too  much 
moved  for  further  speech.  I  was  not  displeased  that 
she  recognized  what  had  been  done  for  her.  I  did 
not  want  to  be  told  of  it.  I  have  always  had  this 
peculiarity. 

' '  I  had  at  least  to  speak  out  of  what  is  the  smallest 
part  of  it  all,  hospitality  so  unusual.  Now  I  have 
paid  this  debt  to  myself,  I  shall  say  no  more,  except, ' ' 
and  she  smiled,  "that  as  you  do  not  like  the  debts  of 
gratitude  to  be  paid  in  words,  you  must  have  suf 
fered,  if  all  I  hear  of  you  be  true." 

"For  shame,  Mrs.  Norman." 

"Well,  you  deserved  it.  I  will  not  sin  again. 
What  kind  of  a  man  is  this  Dagett,  who  seems  to 
amuse  Dr.  Heath  so  much?" 

"He  is  an  example  of  remarkable  intelligence  with 
out  cultivation  and  without  enterprise,  an  oddly 
original  thinker.  You  will  see  for  yourself  if  you 
humor  him  into  frank  talk." 

"That  seems  attractive.  You  have  been,  I  hear, 
a  kind  friend  to  these  people  in  their  lonely,  limited 
lives." 

"What,  again?  Ah,  Mrs.  Christian  has  been  dis 
coursing — ' ' 

"Yes,  an  angel  was  the  smallest  title  she  had  for 
you. ' ' 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  267 

"There  are  people  who  knew  me  at  home  who 
would  be  rather  amazed  at  my  moral  promotion. " 

"Are  you?" 

"Yes  and  no." 

"Why,  yes?" 

"Because,  to  be  frank,  I  did  not  imagine  it  possible 
that  a  man's  view  of  his  relation  to  others  could  be 
changed  by  the  happiness  of  recovered  health  and  by 
what  was  new  to  him,  the  close  and  every-day  con 
tact  with  nature." 

"I  think  I  understand,  but  you  said  yes  and  no. 
Why,  no?" 

"No,  because  I  have  seen  here  how  easily  men  are 
changed ;  one,  Cairns,  by  a  single  event  and  by  a  little 
sunshine  of  prosperity." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Cairns.  I  wonder  if  many  people,  strong 
people,  unhappy  people,  can  come  to  know  the  happi 
ness  of  some  such  radical  change  or — or  if  we — I 
can't  talk  of  it  now  as  I  should  like  to  do.  Is  that 
your  fisherman  on  the  rock?" 

"Yes."  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from  what  I  dis 
like,  talk  of  this  kind  and,  above  all,  of  myself.  I 
was  saying  things  to  this  woman  such  as  were  foreign 
to  my  nature  to  speak  of  to  anyone.  We  fell  as  by 
common  consent  to  trivialities  with  chat  of  the 
seaside  people  and  were  presently  at  Dagett's 
cabin. 

"Good  morning,  Tom,"  I  said.  "This  is  Mrs. 
Norman. ' ' 

He  put  on  a  queer,  puzzled  look.    "I  was  thinkin' 


268  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

you  was  Mrs.  Hap  worth.'7  Being  at  the  moment  be 
hind  her,  I  shook  my  head  at  him. 

The  woman  said  quickly,  "My  husband  was  not 
of  sound  mind.  Here  he  chose  to  call  himself  Hap- 
worth.  His  name  was  Norman. " 

"Well,  now,"  said  Tom,  "come  to  think  of  it,  he 
did  seem  a  bit  queer.  Hope  I  don't  offend,  ma'am." 

' '  Oh,  no, ' '  she  returned  very  quietly ;  "  it  was  quite 
natural  that  I  should  puzzle  you. ' ' 

"Would  you  come  in?"     We  followed  him. 

She  looked  about  her  at  oars,  sails,  nets  and  oilers 
on  the  beams  overhead.  "I  should  think  you  needed 
a  woman,  Mr.  Dagett, "  she  remarked  smiling. 

"Now  that  's  what  every  woman  says.  It  is  a 
kind  of  a  here-and-there  sort  of  place,  but  I  can  al 
ways  find  things.  Women  like  closets.  Ever  notice 
that,  Mr.  Sherwood?" 

"I  had  not  noticed  it." 

"I  have, "  laughed  Mrs.  Norman,  "the  more 
closets  the  better." 

"Well,  it  's  so.  I  Ve  got  three  old  aunts.  They 
set  it  up  one  of  them  was  to  live  with  me.  They 
drawed  lots  for  me,  but  I  said  that  was  worse  than 
gettin'  married,  because  there  wasn't  any  law  for 
divorcing  your  aunt,  and  there  wasn't  a  chance  of 
them  dyin'  because  my  folks  has  got  a  most  teedyus 
talent  for  livin'!" 

Mrs.  Norman  laughed  outright.  "I  give  up,"  she 
said.  "But  you  will  get  caught  some  day  and  then 
there  will  be  closets — " 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  269 

He  shook  his  head.  "Not  this  fish,  ma'am.  Been 
hooked  once.  No  more  for  me." 

Desirous  of  being  pleasant  she  presently  asked, 
"And  still  are  you  not  lonely  at  times?  I  suppose 
you  have  time  to  read?  Would  you  like  me  to  send 
you  some  books?" 

"Well,  Sabbath  do  drag  a  bit  but  I  don't  feel  to 
need  books.  The  Bible  's  enough  for  me.  Other  days 
I  'm  busy  one  way  and  another." 

"Of  course,"  pursued  Mrs.  Norman,  much  amused, 
"there  is  church  on  Sunday,  but  it  is  a  long  way  to 
Belport." 

"That  'minds  me  of  Deacon  Jones.  He  comes 
here  now  and  again  to  get  me  to  go  to  Belport  to 
meetin'.  I  said,  'Bible  's  enough  meetin'  for  me. 
Got  some  choice  of  preachers  in  that  meetin'.'  Then 
he  talked  about  two  or  three  bein'  necessary  and  I, 
I  just  said  did  he  think  God  wasn't  around  when  a 
man  prays  by  himself  and  besides,  the  way  he  put  it 
wasn't  what  was  set  down.  I  never  could  clear  my 
head  about  that  text.  Texts  is  very  contradictious 
sometimes.  Ever  notice  that,  ma'am?  Now  there  's 
them  texts  concernin'  temptation.  They  're  right 
puzzlin'.  There  's  that  about  God  not  temptin'  no 
man  and  about  prayin'  to  be  kept  out  of  tempta 
tion.  I  'm  of  a  mind  that  that  's  where  the  devil 
comes  in.  He  does  explain  a  lot  of  things." 

"Why  not  ask  Miss  Swanwick,  Mr.  Dagett,"  said 
my  companion. 

"Never  thought  of  that.     I  did  hear  Mrs.  Chris- 


270  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

tian  say  she  's  awful  learned  in  Bible.  Guess  she  's 
a  right  deep  thinker." 

Euphemia  as  a  deep  thinker  was  almost  too  much 
for  my  gravity.  Mrs.  Norman  took  it  seriously,  or 
seemed  to,  and  advised  the  conversation  with  my 
cousin,  expressing  some  desire  to  be  present  and 
clearly  enjoying  my  fisherman.  . 

While  Tom  was  indulging  himself  with  free  use  of 
a  rare  opportunity  to  talk,  I  observed  the  perfect 
courtesy  of  Mrs.  Norman's  attentiveness,  the  absence 
of  feature  comment  upon  his  oddity  of  statement  and 
the  courteous  little  word  of  interest  or  agreement. 
It  is  not  always  easy  for  the  humorous  to  conceal  the 
sense  of  amusement,  or  was  she  merely  so  very  gravely 
interested  as  not  to  feel  for  a  time  the  humor  of  what 
he  said? 

"Ah,  Mr.  Dagett,"  she  remarked,  "people  gen 
erally  manage  to  get  out  of  the  Bible  support  for 
whatever  they  desire  to  believe."  She  was  evidently 
luring  him  on  to  not  unwilling  talk,  liking,  I 
thought,  as  I  did,  his  earnestness  and  its  somewhat 
startling  originality. 

"That  's  so,  ma'am,"  he  went  on  well  pleased. 
"It  's  like  the  sea,  the  Bible.  It  's  God's  own  sea. 
There  's  many  fishes  in  it  and  people  they  just  keeps 
so  much  of  their  catch  as  they  want  and  then  they 
cooks  it  their  own  way  and  that  's  the  end  of  it. ' ' 

Turning  to  me,  she  said,  "That  is  sadly  true,  Mr. 
Sherwood.  We  should  have  had  Miss  Euphemia 
here."  Tom,  self-absorbed,  was  for  a  moment  silent. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  271 

while  I  agreed  with  Mrs.  Norman.  Then  he  said, 
"And  there  's  things  in  the  sea  no  man  ain't  never 
seen,  nor  never  will.  It  's  awful  deep,  the  Bible 
sea." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Norman  as  we  rose.  "I 
have  got  some  new  ideas.  Thank  you." 

"That  's  the  good  of  talkin  V  said  Tom,  much  de 
lighted.  "Come  again." 

' '  No.     I  go  to-morrow. ' ' 

"Oh,  you  '11  come  again,"  returned  Tom  confi 
dently. 

As  we  walked  away,  Mrs.  Norman  said,  "Tom  is 
truly  a  delight,  and  to  think  of  the  vastness  of  the 
Bible  being  like  a  great  ocean. ' ' 

"It  was,"  I  remarked,  "a  quite  natural  thought 
for  Tom." 

"But  to  think  of  it  also  as  a  huge  grab  bag  and 
yet  not  in  the  least  to  feel  the  humor  of  it!"  I  was 
aware  that  she  felt  with  me  the  strangeness  of  this 
lonely  man's  reflections  so  reverent  and  yet  so  re 
mote  from  the  ridiculous  in  their  earnestness. 

As  we  walked,  some  care  had  to  be  given  to  the 
footsteps  where  rocks  were  slippery  or  where  was 
need  to  pick  the  way  over  rough  stones,  so  that,  as 
we  moved  on,  I  was  reminded  of  Norman's  com 
plaint.  Thus  there  was  but  little  chance  to  talk, 
until  the  beach  became  easier. 

Then  I  said,  "I  feared  for  you  Tom's  clumsy 
frankness.  He  lives  on  the  surface,  so  to  speak.  It 
is  hardly  to  be  called  frank,  it  is  so  simple." 


272  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sherwood,  the  unnaturalness,  the  reserve 
of  our  own  social  world  is  sometimes  far  more  clumsy. 
I  mean  about  death.  Plain  outspokenness  like  this 
man 's  would  never  hurt  or  even  trouble  me.  I  am  far 
past  the  suffering  which  mere  words  can  bring." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  I  said,  "and  the  man  who 
uses  the  words  is  to  be  considered.  Tom  was,  I  hope, 
all  I  promised?" 

"Oh,  more,  far  more.  I  have  enjoyed  the  walk 
and  indeed  I  should  like  to  hear  Miss  Euphemia  and 
Tom." 

"You  never  will,  but  here  is  the  camp  and  tea  on 
the  rock." 

"Ah,  I  am  not  sorry  to  go  away,  Mr.  Sherwood,  but 
I  shall  miss  these  out-of-door  people  and  the  open- 
air  life  and  the  new  friends  I  am  leaving.  I  can 
not  quite  trust  myself  to  say  to  you  or  even  to  Dr. 
Heath  what  I  would  and  never  can  say.  I  can  talk 
to  Miss  Euphemia  but  the  dear  lady  weeps  over  me 
and  as  I  can  not  always  cry,  she  brings  me  into  a 
condition  of  self-reproach  because  I  am  not  to  her 
what  she  seems  to  think  I  should  be.  I  have  writ 
ten  you  a  note.  I  want  a  small  added  service." 

"Anything  I  can  do?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Tea,  tea,  my  dear,"  called  Euphemia.  "We  had 
lingered  on  the  top  of  the  rise  from  the  beach  and  now 
joined  them.  Mrs.  Norman  of  late  made  evident  ef 
forts  to  take  a  share  in  the  easy  chat  at  the  meals  she 
now  partook  with  us.  She  drank  her  tea,  set  down 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  273 

her  cup  and  remained  quiet  as  the  evening  dusked 
over  a  tranquil  sea.  At  last  she  rose,  saying  she 
had  letters  to  write,  and  left  us. 

1 '  A  very  remarkable  woman,  that, ' '  said  Heath,  ' '  so 
quiet,  so  self-contained/' 

"Sometimes  too  much  so,"  said  Euphemia. 

"No,"  said  Heath.  "You  ask  too  much  of  human 
nature.  She  must  have  lost  any  real  affection  in  the 
face  of  a  life  with  a  madman,  and  that  was  two  years 
ago." 

"She  may  never  have  had  affection,"  persisted 
Euphemia,  "never  truly,  or  how  could  she  be  with 
out  any  appearance  of  emotion  and  be  so  easily  di 
verted?  It  is  too  unhuman." 

"It  would  have  killed  most  women,  Euphemia,"  I 
said.  "I  can  understand  how  one  may  have  gone 
through  such  a  campaign  of  torture,  such  a  trial  of 
courage,  as  leaves  one  a  veteran  no  longer  capable 
of  the  distress  which  finds  comfort  or  relief  in  vain 
tears." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  remarked  Harry.  "She  is 
natural,  Euphemia,  and  that  surprises  you." 

"I  do  not  agree  with  you  or  him.  It  is  unnatural. 
I  should  like  to  know  what  you  really  think,  John." 

"You  have  heard  what  I  think.  It  is  plain 
enough."  I  was  growing  impatient  and  disliked  the 
discussion  perhaps  because  Mrs.  Norman  was  my 
guest,  perhaps  because  her  reticence  and  self-control 
were  to  my  liking.  Euphemia  was  apt  to  construct 
for  people  she  fancied  a  theoretical  scheme  of  con- 


274  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

duct  and  when  they  did  not  live  up  to  it  began  to 
lose  her  too  easily  won  sympathies. 

Now  she  said,  "Of  course  you  don't  really  think. 
What  man  would?  I  shall  be  anxious  as  to  what 
she  will  be  or  become.  She  is,  or  will  be,  a  very 
handsome  woman  and  she  is  young. ' ' 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Euphemia,"  I  said,  "let  the 
poor  thing  alone. ' '  I  fear  I  was  rather  cross. 

Euphemia  rose,  put  up  her  glasses  and  said,  "I 
like  her,  John.  She  could  make  anyone  like  her,  but 
I  can  not  help  wishing  that  she  were  more  serious- 
minded.  She  was  laughing  with  Dodo  yesterday 
about  some  queer  stone  he  calls  a  sweating  rock,  laugh 
ing  like  a  child.  I  was  really  troubled.  What  was 
it  about  the  rock  that  amused  her?" 

"Euphemial,  this,"  murmured  Heath. 

"Well,  Cousin,"  I  said,  "I  at  least  am  glad  she  can 
laugh  and  be  natural.  Dodo  says  that  in  the  South 
the  negro  explains  the  origin  of  these  sweating  stones : 
'When  Adam  he  done  his  first  day's  work,  he  just 
sweated  awful  and  when  he  sat  down  on  a  rock  that 
just  sweated,  too.  All  that  kind  of  stones  kept  on 
sweating  ever  since. '  ' ' 

"I  wonder,"  said  Harry,  "what  inspired  colored 
preacher  invented  that  explanation." 

"How  absurd!"  said  Euphemia.  "Good  night, 
you  have  both  been  disagreeable.  You  are  very — 
very — I  will  not  say  what  I  think.  Good  night." 
Heath  signalled  me  with  a  smile  as  she  sailed  away, 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  275 

for  Euphemia  reminded  me  now  and  then  of  a  great 
ship  under  sail. 

"The  cousin  is — well,  not  serene  at  times, "  said 
Heath.  "Mrs.  Norman  has  been  through  what  would 
wear  out  the  honest  emotionality  of  any  but  the 
feeble.  What  I  said  was  true." 

"Yes,  and  just.  I  am  sorry  you  are  all  leaving 
me." 

"And  I — but  before  I  go  let  me  say  a  pleasanter 
word.  You  will  like  it,  John.  I  had  a  letter  to-day 
from  Baltimore.  I  am  engaged  to  Miss  Howard." 

"What,  to  Lucy?  Ah,  that  is  indeed  good  news. 
Have  you  told  Euphemia?" 

"No." 

"Then  tell  her.  Let  her  think  she  is  the  first  to 
hear  it." 

Heath  laughed.  "Good  advice  that,  and  a  kindly 
ending  to  this  strange  month.  I  trust  you  will  now 
have  an  easier  time — and  how  well  you  are.  When 
shall  you  return  home?" 

"I  shall  stay  here  until  the  snows  come.  After 
that,  I  do  not  know,  but  my  city  life  is  over. ' ' 

' '  That  will  be  well.     And  now  I  must  go  and  dress. ' ' 

Our  last  camp  dinner  was  not  altogether  a  success, 
although  Dodo  put  forth  not  only  his  best  culinary 
skill,  but  had  decorated  the  tent  walls  with  the  moose 
wood  foliage.  In  the  summer  its  large  leaves  seem 
to  float  in  air  on  tendrils  so  delicate  as  to  be  almost 
invisible  at  a  little  distance  in  the  dark  wood  shadows. 


276  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Now  the  leaves  of  dark  purple  were  spotted  with 
scarlet. 

I  had  brought  in  some  of  the  leaves  one  day 
and  as  Mrs.  Norman  expressed  pleasure  and  they 
were  new  to  her,  our  decoration  was  a  little  tribute 
to  my  guest.  As  Mrs.  Norman  did  not  appear  at 
dinner  and,  as  Dodo  reported,  ate  very  little,  he 
was  doubly  disappointed.  Failure  of  appetite  was 
for  Dodo  a  serious  condition.  We  took  care  to  praise 
both  the  dinner  and  this  display  of  autumnal  color. 

Heath  exhausted  his  social  resources  reinforced  by 
a  great  happiness  in  amusing  Euphemia,  who  was  in 
a  very  undivertible  ill  humor,  because  one  of  her 
trunks  could  not  be  locked.  Moreover,  Mrs.  Norman, 
to  whom  I  had  long  ago  given  a  tent  to  herself,  had 
asked  that  she  might  be  left  alone  this  last  evening. 
She  had  in  fact  so  excused  herself  to  me  as  her  host, 
but  Euphemia  thought  there  would  have  been  more 
propriety  in  her  also  excusing  herself  to  the  older 
woman.  Why,  did  not  appear  to  me.  In  fact,  as 
Heath  said  later  in  high  good  humor  and  in  the  con 
fidence  of  the  cigar  hour,  Cousin  Euphemia  was  at 
times  so  ingeniously  cross  that  it  became  amusing. 
When  after  dinner  she  made  the  novel  declaration  that 
tobacco  was  unendurable,  Heath  followed  her  to  her 
tent. 

He  came  back  laughing,  "I  told  her  of  my  en 
gagement.  She  hoped  it  would  prove  satisfactory. 
Really,  John,  she  said  so,  and  why  had  I  not  told  her 
before?  She  supposed  that  of  course  I  had  told  you 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  277 

at  once.  Don't  ask  me  how  I  got  out  of  that,  but  I 
did.  Just  now  she  is  in  a  measure  reassured.  When 
Euphemia  is  about  to  travel,  the  last  day  she  becomes 
intolerable." 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  I  suppose  we  all  have  our  min 
utes  of  discontent.  I  have,  Harry." 

Then  he  gave  me  one  of  the  surprises  he  rarely 
presents  me  with.  "John  Sherwood,  this  month  in 
camp  with  you  has  been  one  varied  lesson  to  me  in 
the  possibilities  of  what  a  man  may  do  with  himself. 
You  try  to  hide  what  you  have  done  here  for  these 
desolate  coast  people,  these  poor  devils,  the  dead  man, 
and  your  generous  recognition  of  an  act  of  courage. 
No — don't  stop  me.  I  always  defended  you  when 
men  said  you  were  a  hard  master." 

"I  was." 

""Well,  it  may  be  so.  God  sent  you  one  of  those 
chances,  if  you  like,  one  of  those  choices,  which  He 
offers  to  men.  It  has  been  in  its  results  a  lesson  to 
me.  Oh,  wait  a  little.  If  you  could  hear  what  our 
poor  Mrs.  Norman  says  of  your  tact  and  kindness — " 

"Nonsense!" 

"It  is  not  nonsense.  I  go  home,  John,  with  a  feel 
ing  the  stronger  for  my  new  happiness,  and  feeling 
that  you  have  set  me  an  example  of  what  a  man  may 
do  to  make  himself  more  the  man  he  has  not  been." 
He  rose,  set  a  hand  on  each  of  my  shoulders  and  said 
gravely,  "I  thank  you  for  this  justification  of  my 
friend.  You  have  found  yourself.  Good  night,  John 
Sherwood."  He  was  gone. 


278  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  sat  down,  much  moved.  He  was  a  reticent  man, 
credited  with  a  rather  cold  manner,  and  even  to  me 
had  never  before  been  so  frankly  affectionate  in  his 
language.  Like  most  men  of  our  time  of  life,  intent 
on  the  varied  business  that  occupied  him  and  me,  such 
personal  talk  had  been  rare  and  brief. 

I  sat  still  thinking  back  over  my  life.  Was  I  so 
radically  changed?  Are  there  many  ways  of  being 
born  again  ?  And  the  woman — I  was  pleased  to  think 
that  she  had  gratefully  recognized  services  so  pleasant 
to  render  and  I  knew  that  I  should  miss  her.  It  was 
near  to  eleven  when  Dodo  brought  me  a  note,  Mrs. 
Norman  had  given  him  for  me.  He  had  put  it  down 
somewhere  and  forgotten  it.  It  said: 

Dear  Mr.  Sherwood: 

I  find  it  easier  to  write  than  to  say  what  I  want  done. 
My  thanks  you  have,  but  there  are  two  other  matters  with 
which  I  must  trouble  you.  I  wish  a  simple  stone  with  the 
name  and  date  set  over  Mr.  Norman's  grave.  Kindly  have 
this  done  for  me  and  let  me  know  from  someone  my  ma 
terial  debt. 

I  feel  that  I  must  write  for  your  eye  alone  what  I  lacked 
courage  to  say  fully  and  which  yet,  in  defense  of  my 
womanhood,  I  must  somehow  deal  with. 

I  must  have  seemed  to  you  singularly  unaffected  by  the 
horrible  tragedy  of  this  summer.  I  was  not  crushed  by  it. 
I  was  not  even  capable  of  appearing  to  be  that  which  I 
was  not.  A  woman  who  for  a  year  has  lived  in  the  be 
lief  that  any  night  might  bring  death  has  exhausted  her 
power  to  fear  and,  too,  her  resources  of  sorrow.  There 
must  be  for  the  strong  a  reason  for  tears.  I  falter  here 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  279 

and  see  that  I  can  write  no  more.  I  did  mean  to  explain 
to  the  master  of  the  tent  whose  salt  I  have  eaten  what  I 
find  I  cannot.  Just  here  is  indeed  where  courage  to  write 
freely  of  my  own  past  life  is  quite  beyond  my  power.  I 
meant  to  do  it  and  can  not — perhaps  ought  not — or  know 
ing  you,  need  not. 

Please  to  burn  this  incoherent  letter  and  believe  me, 
Always  very  gratefully  yours, 

HELEN  NORMAN. 

P.  S.  I  sent  home  long  ago  the  official  proofs  of  Mr. 
Norman's  death  you  were  so  kind  as  to  procure  for  me. 
His  will  I  have  seen  and  now  the  papers  will  enable  me  at 
once  to  settle  his  affairs  and  fulfill  an  intention  long  con 
sidered.  H.  N. 

Seated  in  my  tent  late  in  the  night,  I  read  this 
letter  several  times.  I  felt  that  now  I  knew  or  too 
fully  realized  what  a  year  of  constant  nearness  to 
death  might  mean.  I  had  heard  from  Heath  how 
few  men  or  women  will  steadily  abide  by  this  pledge 
of  "till  death  us  do  part/' 

I  suspected  that  Helen  Norman  had  made  a  mar 
riage  in  which  the  passions  had  no  share.  I  could 
read  between  the  lines  that  duty,  not  love,  made  her 
enduringly  face  death  and  resolutely  search  for  the 
man  whom  she  knew  to  be  so  dangerous.  I  was  re 
minded  of  Cairns'  desire  to  explain  the  motives  which 
made  him  risk  his  life  to  save  Hapworth.  I  wrote : 

Dear  Mrs.  Norman: 

Be  at  ease  about  us.  You  are  in  no  danger  of  being  in 
any  way  misunderstood.  It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  have 


280  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

been  able  to  be  of  any  use  to  you.  I  hope  in  happier  days 
to  renew  an  acquaintance  which  has  given  me  at  least  one 
good  thing,  the  chance  to  see  and  know  you. 

If  any  further  evidence  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Norman  be 
needed,  you  must  say  to  your  legal  adviser  that  I  am  at 
your  service.  I  will  attend  to  the  other  matter.  I  under 
stand  that  Mrs.  Christian  and  Cairns  are  to  use  Mr.  Nor 
man's  books  and  furniture  as  they  please.  That  is  well  and 
kind. 

Heartily  at  your  service,  I  am  very  sincerely  yours, 

JOHN  SHERWOOD. 

All  our  good  neighbors  were  on  the  beach  at  ten 
the  next  morning,  Tom  Dagett,  the  Christians  and 
Cairns.  As  I,  the  last,  went  down  the  rocks  with 
Mrs.  Christian  to  a  rather  silent  group  already  gath 
ered  on  the  shore,  she  said,  ''Seems  to  me  they  're 
right  sorry  to  go,  sir.  Mrs.  Norman,  she  's  about  the 
most  cheery  of  them.  She  has  given  all  her  hus 
band  's  things  away  to  Bob  and  me.  There  was  n  't 
much,  except  chairs,  tables  and  books.  We  just  shut 
up  the  house  and  left  it.  When  I  asked  her  what 
she  wanted  to  keep,  she  said,  'Nothing,  nothing  at 
all/  I  guess  she  'd  like  to  give  away  some  of  the 
things  she  remembers." 

"No  doubt, "  I  said,  "that  would  be  a  privilege." 
"Can't  give  away  that  kind  of  property,  can  you?" 
"No.     But  they  are  waiting  for  us." 
Mrs.  Norman  shook  hands  with  those  she  left  with 
a  kindly  word  to  each  and  soon  they  were  out  at  sea. 
My  neighbors  went  to  their  homes,  and  I  was  left 
alone  at  the  close  of  a  too  memorable  summer. 


XIV 

WHEN  they  had  gone  I  busied  myself  about 
the  camp  or  took  to  my  exercise  with  an  axe, 
cutting  firewood,  for  now  the  September  nights  were 
cold  and  a  camp  fire  pleasant  at  times. 

It  was  near  eleven  when  I  closed  my  diary  of  the 
day  and  sat  down  to  let  my  mind  wander  over  the 
last  two  months.  A  large  silence  was  on  land  and 
sea.  It  is  the  hour  of  self-confession.  Yes,  it  were 
vain  to  deny  that  for  the  first  time  a  woman  in 
terested  me  as  none  had  ever  done.  With  my 
capacity  to  vizualize  things  once  seen,  I  saw  the  child 
like,  innocent  look  of  blue  eyes  that  seemed  without 
record  of  disaster.  The  virginal  curves  of  her  slight 
figure  I  saw  and  recalled  the  sense  her  presence 
gave  me  of  flowerlike  delicacy  and  appealing  fresh 
ness.  I  thought  of  the  amazing  courage  of  dutiful 
months  unsustained  by  sacrificial  love.  Good  Heav 
ens!  Never  once  had  she  spoken  of  her  husband 
otherwise  than  as  Mr.  Norman.  I  had  no  least  in 
decision  as  to  this  matter.  Time  must  pass,  much 
time,  before  I  could  speak  to  her  of  the  thought 
never  more  to  be  long  out  of  my  mind,  but  ah,  this 
waiting  on  time  and  its  chances! 

I  had  settled  that  I  would  not  run  the  risks  of  city 

2S1 


282  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

life,  and  the  winter  loneliness  of  a  camp  I  could  not 
face.  I  wanted,  as  never  before,  larger  human  inter 
course.  To  be  near  Helen  Norman  now,  to  see  her 
with  apparent  mere  friendliness,  was  not  possible.  I 
should  have  shocked  her  with  betrayals  of  the  love  of 
an  age  which  had  too,  the  impatience  of  a  man  ac 
customed  to  go  straight  to  his  purpose ;  I  would  take 
Dodo  and  go  West  and  then  around  the  world. 

A  letter  from  her  two  weeks  later,  about  October 
7,  still  further  added  knowledge  of  her  character. 

Dear  Mr.  Sherwood: 

Someone  has  said  that  we  remember  better  the  pleasures 
of  life  than  its  pain.  Certainly  much  of  the  sad  past  you 
know  of  seems  to  me  like  the  fading  memory  of  an  evil 
dream,  while  the  healing  wonder  of  sea  and  wood  is  re 
called  with  grateful  clearness. 

Miss  Euphemia  writes  to  me  much  disturbed  by  what  I 
have  done  on  my  return  in  regard  to  Mr.  Norman's  prop 
erty,  all  of  which  he  left  to  me  by  a  will  made  soon  after 
our  marriage.  She  can  not  comprehend  my  motives  as  you, 
I  am  hopefully  sure,  will  do  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
given  his  whole  estate  to  his  two  aunts,  old  maiden  ladies, 
with  narrow  means.  An  earthquake  could  not  have  sur 
prised  them  more.  They  have  always  been  far  from 
friendly,  but  I  was  amused  that  they  seemed  to  feel  in 
dignant  at  my  desire  to  retain  nothing  that  had  belonged 
to  Mr.  Norman's  family.  They  were  bound  to  express 
gratitude,  of  course.  They  expressed  it  in  rather  unusual 
forms;  but  really  human  nature  is  very  interesting. 

My  lawyer  was  hard  to  convince  that  I  was  in  earnest. 
My  friends  are  the  more  amazed  because  I  will  not  explain 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  283 

why  I  am  doing  so  mad  a  thing.  I  did  what  I  had  to  do 
and  if  it  is  considered  eccentric,  I  continue  to  feel  no  need 
and  surely  no  desire  to  defend  my  action.  Only  Lucy 
Howard,  who  knows  what  my  life  has  been,  had  the  kind 
insight  which  needed  no  explanation.  I  simply  could  not 
keep  that  money. 

I  certainly  should  not  have  ventured  to  write  to  you  of 
this  matter,  were  it  not  that  it  excites  much  comment  and 
that  you  may  hear  of  it  from  others.  And  so  the  guest  you 
have  probably  by  this  time  ceased  to  remember  as  other 
than  one  to  whom  you  were  the  good  Samaritan  prefers  to 
tell  her  own  story.  Miss  Euphemia  is  sure  to  criticize  my 
action  and  is  certain  to  write  of  it  to  you. 

I  must  for  a  time  fly  from  my  friends  and  go  abroad, 
and  please  not  to  think  me  eccentric.  I  never  did  a  more 
merely  commonsense  thing  than  what  I  am  now  blamed  for. 

I  have  so  set  before  Miss  Swanwick  the  charm  of  a 
winter  in  Rome  that  she  has  at  last  yielded  to  my  desire,  and 
we  sail  October  10,  to  be  gone  at  least  a  year.  This  will 
surprise  you.  A  friend  of  a  near  friend  of  yours,  says  I 
write  zigzaggy  letters.  You  will  pardon  me,  but  I  think  I 
have  said  what  I  wished  to  say. 

Ever  thankfully  yours, 

HELEN  NORMAN. 

I  am  by  no  means  beggared  and  with  her  income  and 
mine  we  shall  do  very  well. 

I  sat  down  that  evening  to  thank  Mrs.  Norman  for 
the  desire  she  expressed  that  I  should  not  misunder 
stand  the  unusual  act  which  so  excited  my  cousin. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  felt  the  need  to  set 
some  guard  on  my  words.  The  letter  I  sent  at  last 


284  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

was  so  formal  that  although  regretting  its  stiffness 
and  the  feeling  that  its  reserve  was  almost  discour 
teous,  I  could  not  venture  to  better  it. 
By  the  same  mail  I  heard  from  Euphemia. 

Dear  John: 

Helen  Norman  is  here  with  me  for  a  day  or  two  in  order 
to  arrange  this  business  of  going  to  Europe.  I  am  prepar 
ing  my  mind  for  it  with  some  difficulty.  I  could  not  have 
yielded  to  Helen's  wish  if  I  had  not  felt  that  it  was  a  duty, 
a  religious  duty,  to  take  this  wounded  soul  into  the  spiritual 
atmosphere  of  Rome.  There  I  trust  she  will  secure  that 
true  peace  and  resignation  which  I  am  sure  she  needs,  but 
of  which  she  shows  no  outward  evidence.  If  she  were  not 
now  so  pretty  and  so  unexpectedly  attractive  to  men,  I 
should  have  more  hope  that  she  would  turn  whither  alone 
consolation  is  assured,  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church. 

Harry  Heath  would  be  delighted  with  these  Eu- 
phemial  views  on  good  looks  as  obstacles  to  piety. 

I  was  too  late  to  avert  an  act  of  incomprehensible  folly, 
in  her  turning  over  all  of  her  husband's  fortune  to  his  two 
old  maiden  aunts.  She  should  have  felt  that  it  was  the 
only  reparation  he  could  make  her.  Could  not  something 
be  done  to  convince  these  women,  his  aunts,  that  they  had 
acted  with  undue  haste  in  accepting  her  gift? 

"Oh,  Euphemia!"  I  gasped.     "Are  for  you  things 
done  and  ended  never  done?" 
I  read  on, 

She  laughed,  John,  like  a  child,  when  I  wanted  her  to 
reopen  the  matter.  Is  it  really  hopeless? 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  285 

There  was  more  of  it,  and  where  was  I  going? 
Could  not  I  join  them  in  Rome,  etc.  I  replied  that 
I  had  other  plans  and,  making  no  comment  on  Mrs. 
Norman's  letter,  sent  my  cousin  an  ample  cheque  to 
make  things  easier  when  in  Europe. 

Mrs.  Norman  had  gone  back  to  Baltimore,  when, 
after  a  few  days  at  home  with  Euphemia,  Dodo  and 
I  left  for  San  Francisco.  I  could  have  done  no  better 
thing.  Of  my  unlooked-for  pleasure  in  this  tour,  I 
say  nothing.  Euphemia  wrote  of  great  happiness  in 
Italy,  but  I  had  rare  and  only  formal  answers  from 
Helen  Norman,  to  whom  I  wrote  now  and  then  im 
personal  letters  of  what  I  saw  in  travel.  She  seemed 
to  me  to  be  getting  further  and  further  from  the 
intimacies  of  our  camp  life.  It  puzzled  me  more 
than  it  would  have  done  a  man  versed  in  the  ways 
of  women.  Now  and  then  she  sent  me  a  pleasant 
message  in  Euphemia 's  more  frequent  letters. 

A  year  and  a  half  went  by  and,  returning  late 
in  May,  I  learned  from  Euphemia 's  letters  that  they 
would  be  at  home  early  in  July.  Mrs.  Norman  was 
to  be  for  a  few  days  with  Euphemia  before  they  fled 
from  the  heat  of  the  city.  I  would  see  them  and  be 
able  to  settle  them  in  some  seaside  cottage  if  they 
were  so  minded.  I  meant  then  to  do,  I  knew  not 
what,  certainly  to  be  much  with  Helen  Norman,  con 
cerning  whom  I  felt  a  new  timidity  quite  foreign  to 
my  usual  mood  when  about  to  approach  any  of  the 
difficulties  of  life. 


286  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

I  had  been  gone  some  eighteen  months  and  as  sev 
eral  weeks  must  go  by  before  their  return,  I  re 
solved,  to  Dodo's  satisfaction,  to  spend  the  interval  in 
Camp  Retreat.  I  little  knew  what  problems  awaited 
me.  No  schoolboy  could  have  more  joyously  returned 
home.  I  had  had  enough  of  travel,  and  now  to  lie 
on  the  rock  that  afternoon  of  my  arrival  with  a  pipe 
and  Dodo's  perfect  after-dinner  coffee  was  for  the 
hour  to  ask  no  more  of  life. 

A  delayed  letter  from  Euphemia  found  at  Belport 
somewhat  unsettled  me.  Euphemia  wrote  that  they 
were  both  travel  weary  and  had  given  up  their  con 
templated  tour  among  the  "desecrated  Cathedrals" 
of  England.  This  change  of  plan  would,  as  I  saw 
from  the  date,  bring  them  back  before  the  letter  I 
read  reached  me  in  my  camp.  It  was  by  no  means 
bad  news  and  might  take  me  home  again  long  before 
I  had  meant  to  return. 

I  was  just  trying  to  recall  the  lines — The  Evening 
Star  with  growing  splendor  mocked  the  dying  Sun 
and  heralded  the  gathering  host  of  heaven — when, 
hearing  a  footfall,  I  turned  from  the  sea  and  saw 
Mrs.  Christian  as  she  said,  "Now  this  is  right  nice 
to  see  you  here  again. "  Thus,  ignorant  of  what 
they  carry,  the  postman  of  fate  comes  upon  us. 

I  said,  "Take  a  seat.     Will  you  have  coffee?" 

"No,  indeed.  I  don't  want  to  keep  company  with 
Caressa  Christian  all  night.  I  get  enough  of  her  by 
day." 

"Tea,  then?    Tea,  Dodo." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  287 

"Well,  that  's  better.  I  'm  a  grandmother.  Had 
to  run  to  tell  you — a  boy — John  Sherwood  Cairns." 

"Indeed,  and  is  all  well?     I  am  much  honored." 

"Oh,  the  baby  is  that,  sir.  There  's  another  thing. 
It  's  not  as  important  as  the  baby.  Is  n  't  it  dread 
ful  the  way  people  lose  their  importance  after  they 
quit  being  babies?" 

I  agreed  to  this  obvious  statement — "and  what  is 
the  other  thing?" 

"Oh,  when  Mrs.  Norman  was  going  away — why, 
that  's  nigh  along  to  two  years — she  told  me  all  the 
furniture  in  her  husband's  cabin  was  to  be  for 
Cairns  and  Susan.  Some  of  it  was  right  nice,  like 
brass  firedogs  and  silver-plated  candle  sticks  Mr. 
Norman  found  in  Belport.  When  we  were  to  move 
things  I  came  on  a  tin  box  of  papers.  I  didn't  look 
at  them,  that  being  none  of  my  business. ' ' 

"Certainly  not.  You  were  quite  right.  Some 
more  tea,  Dodo.  What  did  you  do?"  I  was  becom 
ing  mildly  interested. 

"Susan,  she  said,  'Just  burn  up  the  papers.  Mrs. 
Norman  would  be  glad  never  to  hear  of  that  poor 
man's  belongings.'  It  was  true,  Mr.  Sherwood,  she 
did  say  to  me,  'Burn  what  you  don't  want.'  She 
wouldn't  say  another  word,  but  just,  'I  don't  want 
anything.'  " 

"Well,  of  course  you  kept  the  box?" 

"Yes.  I  was  much  of  Susan's  mind,  but  men 
somehow  feel  to  keep  papers  like  they  was  sacred 
things,  and  Peter  said,  'Send  that  box  to  Mrs.  Nor- 


288  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

man/  How  could  I  and  she  in  Europe.  Cairns  ad 
vised  to  keep  it  till  she  got  back  and  now  here  you 
are,  and  I  just  fetched  the  box  for  you  to  send  it. 
It  's  in  your  tent." 

I  did  not  much  fancy  the  business  thus  put  in  my 
care  and  was  for  a  moment  silent  when  Mrs.  Chris 
tian  said,  "You  don't  like  it  now,  me  neither.  She  '11 
hate  it." 

"I  do  not  like  it  but  I  will  think  what  is  best  to  be 
done." 

"Well,  it  's  relieving  to  have  you  look  after  it." 

1 1 1  will.     How  are  Cairns  and  Peter  ? ' ' 

"They  're  all  right,  and  the  mill  's  making  money. 
I  forgot  to  tell  you  we  found  a  miniature  of  Mrs. 
Norman.  It  wasn't  in  the  box  but  just  lying  on  the 
table.  You  'd  hardly  know  it  for  her  the  way  she 
looked  when  she  was  here.  I  left  it  on  top  of  the 
box.  Bob  Cairns  will  be  here  to  see  you  to-morrow. 
Got  to  go.  Good-bye." 

She  went  away  and  the  last  peace  of  many  days 
fell  on  my  untroubled  soul. 

Late  in  the  night,  I  laid  aside  a  lightly  considered 
book  and  remembered  the  tin  box  and  miniature. 
The  miniature  lay  on  the  box.  This,  at  least,  I  might 
look  at.  It  was  in  an  open  gold  setting  and  on  the 
back  was  engraved  on  the  mounting,  "Helen  May- 
nard,  Mi.  25,  Florence."  It  was  not  Helen  Norman 
and  that  I  liked.  I  sat  still  looking  through  the  open 
tent  at  the  leaping  white  caps  on  the  dark  ocean. 
Something,  as  I  studied  the  young  face,  something 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  289 

like  vague  jealousy  of  the  dead  man,  came  over  me. 
Oh,  to  have  known  her  earlier:  and  then  came  the 
honest  thought  that  it  was  not  only  her  personal 
charm  which  won  my  sudden  love,  but  also  her  cour 
age  and  high-minded  conduct  in  the  face  of  constant 
peril,  the  sense  of  duty  with  which  another  duty  had 
burdened  her. 

"No,"  I  murmured,  "you  never  loved  that  man. 
You  were  always  Helen  Maynard." 

I  was  to  decide  what  to  do  with  the  box.  I  was 
clear  as  to  what  to  do,  but  not  how  to  do  it.  I,  of 
course,  could  not  look  at  the  dead  man's  papers;  only 
Helen  Norman  could  do  that.  With  every  instinct 
of  love  in  revolt,  I  was  averse  to  asking  Mrs.  Norman 
directly  what  she  wished  done  with  this  box.  I  re 
solved  at  last  to  write  to  Euphemia  and  eager  to  be 
done  with  it,  I  wrote  at  once. 

Dear  Cousin: 

Among  Mr.  Norman's  effects  Mrs.  Christian  found  a  tin 
box  of  papers  which  she  kept  until  Mrs.  Norman's  return. 
Not  knowing  what  to  do  with  it  she  brings  it  to  me.  Mrs. 
Christian  says  it  contains  papers  which  she  did  not  read. 
Of  course  I  do  not.  Will  you  ask  Mrs.  Norman  what  I  am 
to  do  with  it.  It  is  an  unpleasant  business  for  her,  a  ma 
terial  resurrection  of  a  miserable  past. 

Yours   always, 

JOHN  SHERWOOD. 
Camp  Retreat,  June  . . .  ? 

On  the  fifth  day  I  heard  in  reply. 


290  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

Dear  John: 

Helen  is  here  for  a  fortnight.  The  Atlantic  was  at  its 
wicked  worst  and  we  are  glad  of  a  rest.  When  I  asked 
Helen  what  you  were  to  do  with  the  box  of  papers,  she 
showed  an  amount  of  emotion  which  amazed  me.  I  never 
supposed  she  cared  for  that  man  enough  to  be  moved  by 
a  thing  like  this.  She  was  pretty  near  a  fit  of  hysterics 
when  I  said,  "Control  yourself,  my  dear  child." 

She  broke  out  of  a  sudden  with,  "Tell  Mr.  Sherwood  to 
open  the  box.  If  there  are  any  things  I  must  see,  then  I 
must.  Tell  him  he  is  at  liberty  to  read  whatever  there  is, 
at  full  liberty.  Ask  him  to  burn  what  is  of  no  value.  I 
never  want  to  hear  of  it  again." 

"But,"  I  said,  "would  it  not  be  better  to  have  him  send 
you  the  box?" 

She  cried  out,  "No,  No.  This  ends  it.  I  hope  to  hear  no 
more  of  it.  Tell  him  what  I  say.  He  will  understand. 
No  one  else  understands  me."  What  she  meant  by  this,  I 
do  not  know.  I  felt  hurt.  She  got  up  and  left  the  room. 
That  is  all.  I  did  hope  she  had  forgotten  that  wretched 
man.  It  seems  not.  Yours  always, 

EUPHEMIA    SWANWICK. 

I  was  thus  not  only  set  at  liberty  to  learn  the  con 
tents  of  the  box  I  had  set  on  the  table  beside  me, 
but  knew  that  I  was  desired  to  save  her  a  task  she 
was  not  willing  to  undertake. 

And  so  "I  alone  understood  her." 

The  confidence  reposed  in  a  man  of  whom  she  had 
seen  so  little  touched  me.  It  would  have  been  for  her 
a  miserable  business;  for  me  it  was  of  itself  of  small 
moment. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  291 

I  laid  down  my  pipe  and  opened  the  box.  It  was, 
as  one  might  have  expected,  full  of  a  tumbled  mass 
of  paid  bills,  a  few  insane  verses  such  as  I  had  found 
at  the  spring,  some  even  better,  some  very  wild,  a  half- 
finished  sermon  and  a  diary  with  no  entries.  I  found 
also  a  cheque  book  with  a  credit  of  two  thousand  dol 
lars  on  the  county  bank.  Then  I  came  on  a  revolver 
and  felt  glad  indeed  that  Helen  Norman  had  not  had 
the  courage  to  examine  these  papers.  I  walked  to 
the  cliff  and  threw  the  weapon  far  out  into  the  sea. 

When  I  returned  to  my  tent  and  the  box,  I  discov 
ered  little  else  than  a  package  of  garden  seeds  and 
what  seemed  to  be  memoranda  of  sales  of  stocks. 

The  last  paper,  now  the  only  one  left,  was  a  blank 
envelope  not  sealed. 

I  was  startled  as  I  unfolded  the  sheet  of  paper 
thus  covered.  It  was  a  holograph  will,  that  is  all 
of  it  was  in  Norman's  writing,  dated,  as  I  saw  be 
low,  about  four  months  after  he  had  come  to  live  on 
my  land.  As  I  turned  to  the  top  of  the  sheet  to  read 
it,  I  had  a  prevision  of  disaster.  It  ran  thus : — 

I,  Benedict  Norman,  being  of  sound  mind  and  disposing 
capacity,  do  give  and  bequeath  to  my  aunts,  Sarah  Wilson 
and  Harriet  Wilson,  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  be  be 
tween  them  equally  divided.  Also  I  give  the  residue  of  my 
estate,  fifty  thousand  dollars  more  or  less,  to  the  Baltimore 
City  Hospital  in  loving  memory  of  my  mother,  Lucy  El- 
wood  Norman. 

I  believe  my  wife,  Helen  Norman,  to  have  been  rightly 
sent  to  the  bar  of  God's  justice  by  my  hand.  But  as  I  am 


292  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

at  times  in  doubt  as  concerns  her  having  survived,  I  here 
solemnly  state  that  she  has  not  been  remembered  in  this 
my  will  because  I  have  proof  that  she  was  unfaithful  to 
her  marriage  vows.  That  I  be  not  misjudged  of  men,  I 
name  as  her  partner  in  guilt  Henry  Heath,  a  doctor  of 
medicine. 

BENEDICT  NORMAN. 
May  seventh,  1889. 

There  were  no  witnesses. 

I  fell  back  in  my  chair  appalled.  Here  again  was 
the  delusion  out  of  which  arose  the  desire  to  kill 
Heath  and  his  wife.  He  was  under  the  despotic 
power  of  a  belief  which  drove  him  to  take  the  prim 
itive  man's  vengeance  for  the  ultimate  human  wrong. 
What  a  legacy  of  enduring  revenge  he  had  left  in 
case  of  his  death. 

I  read  it  again.  The  whole  picture  of  the  man's 
tormented  nature  was  here,  the  belief  that  he  had 
murdered,  the  recurrent  belief  that  he  had  not,  the 
legacy  of  hate, — a  wretched  business.  Had  he  for 
gotten  this  will  as  time  ran  on  and  that  made  soon 
after  his  marriage?  Had  he  meant  to  burn  this  last 
will  when  unluckily  Dodo  had  saved  it?  Who  could 
say?  At  all  events,  here  it  was  to  arouse  new  ques 
tions.  This  delusion  must  have  begun  soon  after  their 
marriage.  I  recalled  what  Heath  had  said  of  his  cor 
respondence  with  her  and  of  Norman's  abrupt  letter. 
Then  I  took  myself  in  hand  and  forced  myself  coldly 
to  consider  the  will  and  the  serious  needs  which  it 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  293 

suggested.  More  and  more  the  horrible  nature  of 
the  business  thrown  on  my  hands  troubled  me. 

At  last  I  rose  and  moved  mechanically  until  I 
stood  on  the  rock,  that  fateful  paper  in  my  hand.  I 
alone  knew  of  it.  I  alone  would  ever  know.  What 
if  I  tore  this  slander  to  pieces  and  let  it  fall  into  the 
murmuring  sea  below  me,  the  confidant  of  so  many 
tragic  secrets  since  time  began?  What  saving 
respect  was  due  to  a  dead  man's  will,  venomous  with 
this  cruel  charge  of  adultery  ?  My  God !  This  pure, 
childlike  woman,  so  gentle  and  so  brave!  The  man, 
my  friend,  as  clean  and  upright  a  nature  as  earth 
affords,  sensitive  to  the  least  slur  upon  his  honor  and 
now  for  a  year  married  to  a  woman  of  the  best ! 

What  ought  I  to  do  ?  I  was  in  the  very  agony  of  a 
temptation  intensified  by  love.  I  looked  up  to 
heaven  in  dumb  appeal.  Prayer,  lost  to  me  since 
youth,  had  become  of  late  a  habit.  The  woods  and 
the  sea,  the  counsels  of  renewed  health  had  spoken 
and  I  had  not  heard  in  vain.  I  stood  still  in  the 
darkness,  praying  to  be  guided. 

As  I  rose,  Mike's  cool  nose  touched  my  hand.  He 
had  been  left  far  away  at  the  mill  and  had  found  his 
way  back  to  his  master.  He  did  not,  as  usual,  bark 
joyously,  but  looked  up  in  wonder  at  my  failure  to 
welcome  his  return.  He  followed  me  to  the  tent, 
where  I  sat  down  and  reread  that  accursed  paper.  I 
caressed  the  dog  carelessly  as  he  set  his  paws  on  my 
knees. 


294  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

' 'Ah,  Mike,  what  shall  I  do?  I  can  not  burn  it. 
Must  it  be  allowed  to  become  public  property  and 
leave  on  two  stainless  lives  the  horror  of  newspaper 
comments  ?  Alas ! ' ' 

To  discuss  it  aloud  with  this  speechless  confessor 
seemed  to  clear  my  head  and  set  aside  the  tempting 
counsels  of  affection  and  friendship.  Mike  whined. 

1  'Yes,  I  do  not  know,  old  fellow.  You  see  she  has 
given  away  all  that  money,  all;  but  there  is  the  hos 
pital.  I  will  not  tell  Harry  Heath  until  I  am 
obliged  to  do  so.  She  must  see  this  will.  I,  horrible 
thought,  must  show  it  to  her,  all  of  it;  no  other 
course  is  to  be  considered  as  possible.'' 

Mike  whined  and  barked.  I  put  him  aside  with  an 
impatient  word.  He  looked  up  at  me,  reproach  in 
his  gold-irised  eyes.  Was  this  my  welcome  after  so 
long  an  absence?  At  the  end  of  his  patience,  he  re 
sorted  to  his  final  customary  means  of  attracting 
notice.  He  went  to  the  corner  of  the  tent  and  did  all 
the  tricks  Dodo  had  taught  him,  stood  on  his  head, 
played  dead,  and  walked  on  his  hind  legs.  I  called 
him. 

"Mike,"  I  said,  "you  at  least  have  no  cares.  She 
must  know  it  all.  O  God,  help  her  and  me.  Ah,  the 
dear  gallant  lady,  so  tender,  alas,  and  so  brave." 

I  had  decided.  I  dropped  on  the  floor  and  rolled 
over  in  a  joyful  tussle  with  Mike,  laughing,  yes, 
laughing,  strangely  relieved  by  my  decision. 

Then  I  went  out  again  and  won  fresh  serenity  of 
mind  as  I  looked  up  at  the  stars  and  felt  that  He, 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  295 

who  set  and  kept  them  in  their  mighty  paths,  would 
find  for  me  and  the  woman  I  loved  a  way  to  do  the 
right  thing.  I  went  to  bed  and  slept  a  dreamless 
sleep. 

I  awakened,  thinking  what  I  should  say  to  her, 
how  approach  it.  The  hour  and  her  face  should 
counsel  me.  I  set  it  aside  and  told  Dodo  that  I  was 
called  home  and  must  shortly  leave.  Except  the 
miniature,  the  will  and  the  bank  book,  I  burned  all  of 
Norman's  papers. 

I  was  in  haste  to  get  done  with  a  question  to  which, 
so  far,  I  had  no  answer.     I  told  Dodo  to  hurry  things 
and  left  with  Christian  the  care  of  the  camp. 

II  Anything  the  matter,  sir?"  asked  Dodo.     "Miss 
'Phemy  got  home?" 

"Yes.  I  must  be  at  Belport  by  noon  to-morrow. 
"What  the  deuce  amuses  you?"  He  was  showing  his 
white  teeth  in  a  broad  grin. 

"Nothing,  sir." 

* '  Then  you  are  easily  amused. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir." 

Cairns  came  over  later  and  discussed  the  mill  and 
the  baby.  In  the  afternoon  to  fill  an  hour  with  other 
thought,  I  called  Mike  and  strolled  up  the  beach,  en 
joying  his  continuous  feud  with  the  waves.  He  was 
wildly  leaping  forward  when  they  fell  back  and 
growling  in  retreat  before  their  return.  At  last, 
there  was  Dagett,  as  usual,  repairing  lobster  traps. 

"Well,"  he  cried,  "it  's  good  to  see  you  again." 
As  always  he  fell  to  talk  of  the  sea.  "Them  lobster 


296  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

pots  do  get  wracked  mighty  easy.  It  's  awful  tryin' 
to  my  soul.  I  get  impatient  with  the  Lord's  doin's 
with  the  pots  and  nets." 

"  There  are  worse  things  to  deal  with  in  this  life, 
harder  to  mend." 

"Not  for  folks  like  you,  sir.  It  's  just  to  pay  and 
someone  else  attends  to  the  business. ' ' 

"Money  won't  doctor  all  our  hurts,  Tom." 

"No,  sir,  but  there  's  God;  and  time  's  awful  help 
ful.  Not  even  prayer  will  mend  my  nets.  I  hope 
you  ain't  in  any  trouble.  There  's  them  on  these 
coasts  would  be  sorry. ' '  Then  he  added,  with  his  us 
ual  frankness,  "What  's  happened?" 

"Nothing  I  care  to  talk  about." 

"When  talkin'  to  people  don't  help  things,  talkin' 
to  God  does.  You  never  can  tell  what  He  '11  say  or 
do.  Prayin'  ain't  so  immediate  helpful  as  some  folks 
expect,  but  when  a  man  gets  up  off  his  knees  and  feels 
to  be  better,  his  prayer  's  a  kind  of  answered. ' ' 

We  were  of  one  mind,  this  lonely  fisherman  with  his 
material  difficulties  and  I  with  my  larger  problems. 
I  said,  "Yes,  yes,"  in  a  thoughtful  way  and  shifted 
a  too  intimate  talk  on  to  other  matters,  glad  to  speak 
of  Cairns  and  the  coast  people. 

"How  is  Mrs.  Norman?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  well.     Very  well." 

"She  's  young,  and  time  's  a  good  friend,  and  it 
was  n't  as  bad  as  if  he  had  lived." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it  was  for  her  and  for  him  merci 
ful." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  297 

"It  was  queer,  too,"  remarked  Tom.  "Now, 
wasn't  it  queer?  That  man  was  kind  of  religious. 
Seemed  like  he  was  two  or  three  people." 

"I  am,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"Well,  sir,  hope  you  '11  hold  on  to  the  man  I  've 
knowed  you  for.  I  've  had  some  experience  in  the 
ways  of  females.  Mrs.  Norman,  she  '11  get  a  better 
man  some  day." 

I  turned  to  go,  saying,  "I  hope  so." 

"Some  man  like  you,"  said  Tom. 

"Oh,  stuff  and  nonsense!" 

"Her  man  was  what  we  folks  call  a  simple,  had  n't 
no  horse  sense.  Bible  says,  'The  Lord  preserveth  the 
simple'  and  one  way  is  death.  That  's  mighty  pre- 
servin '. ' ' 

Amused  at  his  queer  statement  of  the  ways  of 
Providence,  I  strolled  back  to  camp,  thinking  of  Helen 
Norman. 


XV 


ON  my  homeward  journey  I  reconsidered  the 
questions  put  to  me  by  conscience,  duty  and 
affection.  I  found  no  other  answer  than  I  had  found 
in  camp. 

I  was  still  troubled  and  without  any  happier  de 
cision  when  I  stood  on  the  familiar  doorstep  of  the 
little  house  in  Pine  Street  and  hesitated  a  moment 
before  I  rang  the  bell.  There  was  a  hearty  welcome 
from  my  grey-headed  nurse,  and  I  found  Euphemia 
as  usual  in  the  little  drawing-room,  what  we  still 
called  the  parlor,  hemming  handkerchiefs  as  of  old. 
Her  stay  abroad  had  been  of  service,  and  I  could 
say  with  truth  that  she  seemed  to  have  dropped  off 
some  years. 

When,  at  last,  she  wondered  why  I  had  left  my 
cool  camp  to  welcome  an  old  woman,  I  was  well  aware 
,that  she  was  becoming  curious.  I  made  haste  to 
multiply  reasons  for  my  return,  and  mentioned  in 
a  casual  way  that  I  had  found  among  Norman's 
effects  some  business  papers  requiring  consideration 
by  Mrs.  Norman,  and  perhaps  legal  advice.  She  was 
at  once  interested. 

"John,"  she  said,  "I  hope  it  concerns  her  folly  in 

298 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  299 

giving  Norman's  property  away  —  no  one  knows 
why." 

"It  does  not,"  I  replied;  "that  is  an  affair  of 
nearly  two  years  ago.  It  is  dead  and  buried." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  to  think  of  it,  John, 
and  she  will  not  give  any  reason." 

Euphemia,  who  gave  lavishly  to  charities  and  her 
church,  had  in  her  youth  suffered  so  much  from  pov 
erty  that  money,  property  in  bulk,  assumed  for  her 
values  which  had  clearly  no  such  place  in  the  nature 
of  Helen  Norman,  nor  had  the  younger  woman  been 
at  pains  to  defend  her  unworldly  action. 

"She  is  sometimes  very  disappointing,"  continued 
my  cousin  sadly.  "I  did  not  find,  'John,  that  she 
found  in  Rome  what  I  did.  Perhaps  she  may  have 
been  there  with  her  husband." 

"Possibly,"  said  I,  hating  the  discussion,  all  of 
it,  "possibly." 

"Oh,  probably,"  returned  Euphemia.  "She  was 
now  and  then  depressed,  far  more  than  at  the  time 
of  her  husband's  death.  I  always  said  her  sorrow 
would  deepen  with  time.  Sometimes  I  fancied  that 
it  was  regret  at  her  foolishness  in  depriving  herself 
of  property  in  such  a  hasty  way.  At  first,  long  ago, 
I  did  think  something  might  be  done  about  it.  I 
spoke  to  you  then  of  it." 

"You  did,"  I  said  curtly.  "I  thought  we  were 
done  with  it.  Why  bring  it  up  again  ?  It  is  neither 
your  business  nor  mine." 


300  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"But  it  is  most  lamentable,  John,  most  lament 
able.  " 

I  was  so  well  acquainted  with  my  cousin's  ways 
that  now  as  she  spoke  I  had  an  unpleasant  suspicion 
that  she  had  at  some  time  been  more  immediately 
meddling  with  Mrs.  Norman's  affairs.  I  said 
sharply,  "Euphemia,  have  you  been  at  any  time  in 
terfering  in  this  business?" 

"No,  I  have  not,  John."  Then  she  hesitated  and 
added,  "Not  directly." 

' '  How  then  ?     How  indirectly  ? ' ' 

"Only  by  a  letter,  but  not  lately." 

"Not  really!  You  don't  mean  you  wrote  to  her 
husband's  aunts!" 

"I  did,  but  it  was  such  a  short  letter." 

"You  are  really  inconceivable.  And  pray,  what 
did  you  say?" 

"Oh,  I  kept  a  copy.  You  know,  John,  how  ac 
curate  I  am  in  matters  of  business."  A  more  hope 
lessly  inaccurate  person  I  never  knew. 

"Let  me  see  that  letter,  your  copy." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "I  will,  I  will,  but 
it  was  really  long  ago. ' ' 

"Let  me  see  it  now.  I  will  wait.  Let  me  see  it." 
I  was  vexed  and  anxious.  Well  might  Heath  say 
that  she  had  a  moderate  amount  of  intellect,  but 
neither  intelligence  nor  common  sense. 

She  left  me  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned. 

"I  can't  find  it,"  she  said.  "I  have  mislaid  it." 
I  was  certain  that  she  was  fibbing.  "Perhaps  to- 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  301 

morrow,  John."  I  was  sure  never  to  see  that 
letter. 

I  asked,  "Did  Mrs.  Norman  know  of  your  inter 
ference  ? ' ' 

"Of  course  not,  but— " 

"Well,  no  matter.     Did  you  get  an  answer?" 

"I  did,  most  discourteous,  most  unpleasant.  You 
will  sympathize  with  me.  Here  it  is." 

Here  it  was,  indeed,  with  a  date  of  over  a  year  ago. 

Madam  : 

The  young  woman  who  made  our  nephew's  life  so  miser 
able  has  seen  fit  to  return  to  his  family  the  property  which 
he  left  to  her  before  he  came  to  understand  her  true  char 
acter.  We  are  indisposed  to  dwell  upon  the  matter — what 
you  have  to  do  with  it  we  cannot  conceive. 

SARAH  AND  HARRIET  WILSON. 

I  was  troubled.  Did  these  old  fools  believe  his  de 
lusions  as  to  his  wife's  dishonor?  How  freely  had 
he  talked,  and  then  had  he  named  Heath? 

"Oh,  Euphemia,"  I  exclaimed,  "how  could  you!" 
"But,  John,  it  was  ever  so  long  ago." 
I  put  the  letter  in  my  pocket,  meaning  to  destroy 
it,  sure  now  that  in  no  way  must  these  women  be 
brought  personally  into  the  case. 
"John,  give  me  that  letter." 

' '  No.  You  may  have  again  made  mischief.  I  shall 
burn  it.  Once  before  you  came  near  to  costing  her 
life.  You  should  have  let  alone  what  was  none  of 
your  business." 


302  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"But  I  want  Helen  to  see  it.  I  want  her  to  feel 
that  I—" 

"Euphemia,  if  you  ever  speak  of  it  to  her,  I  shall 
never  forgive  you.  Promise  me." 

"I  do,  I  do,  but  I  am  quite  unable  to  see  how  it 
concerns  you." 

"It  does,  Euphemia,  but  I  will  not  discuss  it 
further.  Promise  me." 

"Helen  should  have  consulted  me,  oh — or  someone. 
But  I  promise ! ' '  and  for  a  wonder  she  kept  her  word, 
or  at  least  that  is  my  belief. 

"Is  Mrs.  Norman  in?"  I  asked.  "I  must  see  her 
about  these  papers  and  about  a  little  balance  Norman 
left  in  the  bank  at  Belport." 

"Yes,  she  is  in.  I  will  call  her.  You  won't  men 
tion  it  to  her,  John,  about  my  letter,  I  mean." 

"Hardly." 

Left  alone,  I  reflected  that  under  no  circumstances 
must  there  be  any  appeal  to  the  aunts  concerning  the 
hospital.  It  should  be,  must  be,  discussed  by  us,  but 
with  no  reference  to  this  letter  or  its  implications. 
So  far,  Euphemia 's  meddling  had  had  its  value. 

Then  Helen  Norman  entered,  another  Helen !  She 
came  swiftly  from  the  back  room,  radiant,  giving  me 
both  hands  of  frank  welcome. 

' '  Euphemia  said  you  would  come.  But  why  in  this 
maddening  heat  should  you  leave  that  cool  camp  to 
come  and  visit  us?  I  told  Euphemia,  when  she  said 
you  would  be  sure  to  come  at  once  to  see  her,  that  she 
was  a  brevet  mother  and  expected  too  much  of  men. 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  303 

She  keeps  the  spillikins  you  made  and  I  think  puts 
them  next  in  value  to  a  precious  relic  of  one  of  her 
many  saints.  I  love  her  too  well  to  make  merry  over 
the  comic  corners  of  her  religion." 

Mrs.  Norman  was  talking  fast,  a  little  disconnect 
edly,  but  showing  no  embarrassment  before  a  man 
who  had  met  her  last  in  the  forced  intimacies  of  an 
unusual  and  painful  situation. 

"You  are  right,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  ways 
— what  you  call  the  corners — of  any,  perhaps  of 
every,  sect  may  have  their  amusing  aspects  for  the 
outsiders  of  other  creeds.  There  is  Mrs.  Christian 
and  Tom  Dagett." 

"Yes,  that  quaintly  wise  creature,  and  Mike  who 
believes  in  one  divinity,  John  Sherwood.  How  is 
Mike,  the  golden-eyed  Mike?" 

1 '  Oh,  well, ' '  I  said.  ' '  Very  well. "  I  was  recalled 
by  his  name  to  the  remembrance  of  that  last  night  in 
camp  and  its  bewildering  problems. 

Mrs.  Norman's  eyes,  those  childlike  blue  eyes  of  ap 
peal,  troubled  me.  "I  hope  *that  Susan  is  well  and 
Cairns." 

"Yes,  all  is  as  one  could  desire  and  there  is  a  small 
John  Sherwood  Cairns.  I  believe  that  you  are  to  be 
the  godmother  or  some  Baptist  substitute  for  such  an 
office." 

Then  she  said,  smiling,  "It  will  be  at  a  distance. 
What  else  is  there?"  Ah,  these  intuitive  perceptions 
of  women.  "There  is  something  else?" 

"Yes,  there  is." 


304  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"Then  tell  me.  You  look  grave.  What  is  it? 
Nothing  can  happen  to  trouble  me  now.  I  have  ex 
hausted  the  possible  calamities  of  life.  There  is  some 
thing  over  which  you  hesitate.  Once  I  said  to  you  I 
was  not  a  woman  to  be  prepared,  as  people  say,  for 
bad  news.  What  is  it?" 

1 '  Mrs.  Norman,  it  is  you  and  you  alone  who  brought 
me  here.  Among  Mr.  Norman's  effects  was  a  tin 
box  full  of  unimportant  papers  which  Mrs.  Christian, 
with  her  good  sense,  did  not  read,  but  thought  I  might 
be  a  proper  person  to  consider,  or  you  if  I  thought 
best.  I  asked  Euphemia  to — to  tell  you  and  give 
you  a  choice — " 

"Thank  you.  I  am  sure  you  understood  me.  I 
sent  you  word.  But  there  is  something  you  hesitate 
to  tell  me?" 

"Yes.  Among  these  papers  I  found  a  holograph 
will,  that  is,  a  will  all  in  Mr.  Norman 's  handwriting. ' ' 
She  listened  intent.  "It  is  dated  some  months  after 
he  settled  on  my  land.  At  whatever  pain  it  may 
cost,  you  must  see  it.  Then  as — as  your  friend,  we 
must  consider  what  is  to  be  done.  There  are  ques 
tions  I  could  not  decide  without  you." 

"Give  it  to  me." 

I  did.  She  read  the  first  paragraph  and  looked 
up.  "But  it  is  all  left  to  his  aunts.  Why,  they  have 
the  money  now." 

"Go  on,  "I  said. 

"Ah,  the  hospital.  That  is  serious,  but — "  and  she 
paused,  "there  is  a  way." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  305 

"Go  on,"  I  said.  She  read  the  brutal  charge  at 
the  close.  "Oh,  my  God!"  she  cried.  The  paper 
fell  to  the  floor.  She  grew  deathly  pale  and  then 
flushing  scarlet,  said  a  characteristic  thing,  "Poor 
Dr.  Heath,  and  my  dear  Lucy  Howard!"  Not  a 
word  of  herself. 

' '  They  at  least  will  never  know, ' '  I  said,  as  I  picked 
up  the  will.  "They  never  shall  know.  I  would 
have  saved  you  too  this  horror  had  it  been  possible. 
I  saw  no  way  to  save  you.  But  remember  that  I, 
your  friend,  put  at  your  service  all  of  resolution, 
courage  and  resource  I  have — with  such  power  as 
wealth  can  give.  Let  us  consider  what  is  to  be  done. 
One  courage  I  lacked.  I  wanted  to  burn  this  will." 

"No,"  she  said,  "a  dead  man's  will.  You  were 
right.  You,  at  least,  should  not.  But,  what  is  to  be 
done  ?  What  is  to  be  done  ? ' ' 

"I  have  learned  that  a  holograph  will,  dated,  with 
out  witnesses,  is  good  to-day  in  Maryland.  If  we 
turned  this  over  to  probate,  its  validity  would  de 
pend  on  proof  of  the  writer  having  been  of  sound 
mind  when  he  wrote  it,  and  the  gifts  made,  taken 
alone,  are  sane  enough?  Would  the  aunts  give  the 
hospital  that  fifty  thousand  dollars?" 

I  was  now  sure  they  would  not,  but  felt  I  must 
let  the  matter  be  discussed  naturally.  "These 
women  could  reasonably  be  asked  to  give  it  as  a 
memorial,  but  you  would  have  to  explain  yourself  by 
showing  this  paper.  Would  that  be  wise?" 

"No,  neither  wise  nor  of  any  use.     The  condition 


306  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

of  their  minds  is  very  strange.  I  mean  about  what  I 
gave.  They  were  blindly  devoted  to  Mr.  Norman  and 
were  furious  when  my  legal  adviser  and  I  and  my 
friends  put  him  in  an  asylum.  They  took  his  money, 
but  talked  of  it  as  an  insult  to  the  memory  of  a  man 
I  had  ill  treated  and  as  the  gift  of  a  remorseful 
woman.  Can  you  imagine  that?  They  would  do 
nothing  about  the  hospital  unless  they  saw  the  will. 
And  even  then  if  they  did  see  it  they  would  be  sure  to 
believe  this  awful  charge  and  talk.  I  know  them  far 
too  well.  If  the  will  were  to  be  made  public,  they 
would  fight  it  bitterly." 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "if  you  are  right  about  them  they 
would  stand  on  the  first  will  and  on  your  ownership 
and  resist  the  claim  of  the  hospital  that  he  was  at  the 
time  of  this  later  will  sane." 

"But  suppose,  Mr.  Sherwood,  I  myself  quietly  gave 
this  sum  to  the  hospital.  The  intention  of  the  will 
would  thus  be  practically  fulfilled,  after  which  I 
would—" 

"Pardon  me,  but  what  would  you  have  left?" 

"About  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  That  is  of 
no  moment.  I  want  to  defend  your  friend  and  mine, 
Lucy  Howard.  Money,  what  is  money?  It  is  noth 
ing.  If  this  will  went  into  the  courts  and  was  dis 
cussed  by  the  newspapers,  I  should  die  of  shame. 
How  too  could  he  be  proved  to  have  been  at  this  later 
date  insane  and  would  even  proof  of  his  insanity  help 
your  friend  or  me?  There  always  would  be  this 
cruel  charge." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  307 

This  was  true.  "For  you,"  I  said,  "to  send  this 
money  to  the  hospital  as  an  anonymous  gift  merely 
to  get  out  of  an  unendurable  position  would  not  help 
you.  There  would  still  be  the  will  which  meant  it  to 
be  a  loving  memorial  for  his  mother.  Would  you 
give  it  in  that  form?" 

"No,  I  could  not.  I  would  not.  I  do  not  want  to 
in  that  form.  Oh,  it  is  dreadful!" 

"Let  me  think  it  over.  No  one  knows  of  this  but 
you  and  me.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow,  no,  in  two 
days.  You  must  wait  patiently." 

"It  is  long  to  wait." 

I  put  the  will  in  my  pocket,  she  saying  as  I  rose, 
"Mr.  Sherwood,  I  leave  this  to  you.  I  am  sure  you 
will  find  a  way  for  me  to  do  what  is  right.  Thank 
you.  Come  early,  at  ten  in  the  morning.  I  shall  try 
to  be  patient.  Euphemia  will  be  out  at  that  hour." 

I  went  back  to  the  apartments  I  had  kept  through 
out  my  long  absences.  I  dressed,  dined  with  Heath 
and  his  wife  and  was  resolute  that  they  should  never 
know  of  this  will.  That  night  I  sat  down  alone  to 
think  over  this  difficult  situation. 

If  the  conditions  of  an  insane  man's  testament 
could  be  fulfilled  without  obedience  to  the  legal  forms, 
did  the  moral  law  of  good  citizenship  demand  such 
strictness  of  conduct  as  would  result  in  the  publicity 
of  the  courts  and  the  publication  of  one  of  those 
slanders  which  have  such  vitality  of  evil.  I  did  not 
mean  it  should  be.  Then  I  saw  a  way.  I  was  as 
usual  decisive  and  readily  arranged  matters  to  my 


308  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

own  satisfaction,  whether  to  hers  or  not  I  was  yet  to 
learn. 

"Euphemia  is  in,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  as  we  sat 
down,  "but  I  told  her  you  had  undertaken  to  settle 
for  me  some  business  matters." 

"Did  this  satisfy  her?" 

"No,  it  did  not,"  and  I  was  glad  that  she  could 
smile,  ' '  but  you  know  her.  Now  you  have  been  think 
ing,  I  trust  to  some  purpose.  I  too,  have  been  think 
ing  all  night  and  to  no  purpose.  I  got  this  far.  I 
am  a  woman  alone  in  the  world,  without  any  near 
kindred  to  feel  and  suffer.  If  I  alone  were  involved, 
I  would  boldly  face  this  matter  and  let  this  last  will 
be  fought  over  by  two  greedy  old  women  and  the 
hospital.  Let  me  see  it  again." 

She  read  it  with  quiet  attention  and  laid  it  aside 
on  a  table. 

"No,  I  can  not.  It  gets  worse  the  more  I  think 
of  it.  If  I  had  found  this  will,  I  would  have  burned 
it,  but  now  you  have  seen  it.  It  carries  for  you  cer 
tain  responsibilities  which  I  have  to  consider.  To 
give  it  to  me  would  be  to  destroy  it.  Oh,  I  have 
thought  about  it,"  she  continued,  "and  that  un 
happily  you  too  are  to  be  considered.  Ah,  if  I  had 
been  less  of  a  coward  and  had  had  that  box  sent  to 
me,  neither  you  nor  anyone  else  would  have  seen 
this  slander." 

She  spoke  more  and  more  rapidly  as  she  went  on, 
evidently  under  the  control  of  almost  overmastering 
emotion.  "But  now  is  your  friend  and  mine  to  be 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  309 

cursed  in  the  dearest  days  of  life  by  an  insane  man's 
action,  and  would  it  be  looked  upon  by  everyone  as 
only  the  product  of  a  sick  mind?  It  is  too  devilish. 
Was  ever  such  a  calamity ! ' '  She  paused. 

"Mr.  Sherwood,  you  must  excuse  me.  I  had  come 
to  think  that  nothing  worse  could  happen  to  me  than 
what  I  had  been  able  to  bear  with  courage,  but  this 
— this — !  You  said  you  were  my  friend.  You  said 
you  would  think  about  it — " 

It  was  time  that  she  ceased  to  set  free  emotion  in 
speech.  Even  with  my  small  knowledge  of  women  it 
was  plain  to  me  that  she  was  near  to  some  physical 
disaster.  As  she  ceased  to  speak,  she  looked  up  at 
me  with  those  troubled,  overfull  eyes  of  childlike 
appeal. 

I  said,  as  quietly  as  possible,  "Mrs.  Norman,  I 
have,  as  I  promised,  given  this  matter  all  the  thought 
it  requires.  But  before  I  tell  you  my  conclusions  I 
want  once  more  to  know  what  you  can  do  or  cannot. 
My  own  embarrassment  as  to  this  paper  was — is  in  my 
sense  of  duty  to  the  law.  I  am  now  considering  this 
thing,  as  you  must,  calmly.  What  can  you  do?" 

She  was  more  quiet,  more  thoughtful  and  was  in 
tently  listening. 

"These  aunts,"  I  said,  further,  "have  already 
what  he  meant  to  give?" 

"Yes,  but  go  on." 

"You  assured  me  that  you  could  not  give  to  the 
hospital  as  Mr.  Norman's  memorial,  the  amount  the 
will  leaves.  You  said  I  would  understand  why  you 


310  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

could  not.     I  was  not  quite  clear  as  to  your  mean 
ing." 

I  could  give — but  not  in  the  terms  his  will  de- 


i  ( 


"But  that  would  not  fulfill  the  wish  of  a  loving 
memorial  to  his  mother.  Whatever  is  sane  about  this 
will  has  got  to  be  respected  by  you  and  by  me/' 

1 '  That  is  plain,  Mr.  Sherwood.  I  have  tried  to  feel 
that  way." 

"You  said  I  would  understand." 

"Yes,  about  the  hospital  gift." 

"But  really,  as  I  have  just  told  you,  I  am  not  clear 
that  I  do." 

"Why,  Mr.  Sherwood,  I  might  give  merely  to  get 
rid  of  the  last  fragment  of  a  doubt  about  my  right 
to  destroy  an  insane  man's  will." 

"I  see,  and  burn  it  then?" 

"Yes,  and  without  a  scruple,  but  to  refuse  to  re 
tain  and  use  his  money  and  yet  to  give  now  of  my 
own  means  as  this  will  gives,  a  memorial  that  would 
seem  to  be  given  out  of  affection,  respect,  remem 
brance — I — do  not  make  me  say  more.  It  would  be 
known  as  my  gift.  I  should  be  acting  a  lie.  I  sim 
ply  cannot.  Except  for  Lucy  and  Dr.  Heath  I  would 
say,  let  them  fight  out  this  will.  I  said  so." 

She  had  reached  the  conclusion  I  desired.  Now  I 
did  more  fully  understand  her. 

"No,"  I  returned,  "beside  my  cousin  and  your 
friend,  there  is  another  to  be  considered — you.  You 
will  need  some  moral  courage  to  face  what  I  shall 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  311 

propose."  I  was  feeling  a  little  uneasy  at  my  own 
daring. 

"Courage!"  she  laughed,  in  a  not  pleasant  way. 
"It  is  too  horrible.  Even  to  have  to  speak  of  this, 
this  thing,  this  charge,  to  you — to  you — oh,  to  any 
one — is  horrible.  That  alone  asks  courage.  What  do 
you  want  me  to  do  that  needs  it  ?  I  have  faced  death, 
ah,  many  times,  with  a  madman's  pistol  touching 
my  forehead.  Courage!"  She  started  up,  and 
walked  about,  twisting  a  handkerchief,  talking  wildly. 
"You  talk  of  courage!  I  had  the  courage  of  duty. 
Love  I  never  had.  My  friends,  my  doctor,  said, 
*  Separation — divorce,'  but  this  man;  to  him  I  had 
bound  my  best  self  for  sickness  and  health.  I  had 
the  courage  of  duty,  of  remembrance  of  his  care  of  my 
father.  What  more  courage  is  wanted  now?" 

"I  will  tell  you  presently,  but  pray  sit  down  and 
listen." 

"I  will.  I  will.  What  have  I  been  saying? 
You  will  excuse  me,  I  know.  I  thought  it  was  all 
gone  and  done  with,  and  now — oh,  my  God!  He  lay 
like  a  curse  on  my  young  life,  and  now — now  I  am 
to  be  whipped  through  the  years  with  a  dead  man's 
slander !  Let  me  burn  it.  I  have  a  right  to  burn  it. 
No  one  shall  stop  me. ' ' 

"Sit  down,  please,"  I  repeated.  She  did  at  last 
throw  herself  on  the  lounge. 

"You  will  not  like  what  I  have  done.  No  other 
course  was  possible." 

"What  is  it  that  you  have  done?" 


312  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

"You  can  not,  will  not,  give  this  memorial  gift?'* 

"No,  but— " 

"Pardon  me.  I  understand  your  indecision,  but  I 
took  you  at  your  word.  It  is  now  out  of  your  power 
and  mine.  To-day  the  hospital  will  have  the  check 
of  Maxwells,  the  Baltimore  bankers,  for  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  and  with  it  a  typewritten,  unsigned  note 
saying  that  it  is  a  gift  in  loving  memory  of  Lucy 
Elwood  Norman,  mother  of  the  late  Reverend  Bene 
dict  Norman ;  I  at  least  can  so  put  it  if  you  could  not. 
I  added  that  the  donor  desires  to  remain  anonymous. 
My  agents  in  this  matter  are  to  be  trusted.  No  one 
else  will  know." 

The  little  woman  was  on  her  feet  as  I  ended.  "Mr. 
Sherwood,  you  have  taken  a  liberty  which  nothing  in 
our  relation  justifies.  I  shall  of  course  repay  you. 
You  had  no  right  to  force  upon  me  this  obligation. ' ' 

"Shall  I  withdraw  the  draft?" 

"You  know  you  cannot.  You  leave  me  helpless. 
You  would  not  have  dared  to  do  it  for  a  man. ' ' 

"Would  I  not?  I  would  do  it,  oh,  and  more,  for 
Heath's  sake,  that  I  might  feel  free  to  burn  this 
accursed  paper." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sherwood,  I  have  said  to  you  in  my — my 
distress  what,  remembering  your  kindness  to  me  in 
those  bitter  days,  I  should  not  have  said.  But  why, 
oh,  why  did  you,  who  are  so  kind,  so  considerate,  put 
me  in  this  position?  Now  I  can  do  nothing.  I  am 
trapped,  powerless.  Why  did  you,  a  friend,  take  this 
liberty?" 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  313 

I  too  had  risen  when  she  did.     It  was  too  much  for 
me,  who  had  meant  to  be  patient  and  trust  my  future 
happiness  to  longer  acquaintance  and  the  delicacies 
of  a  yet  timid  love. 

I 1  Why  ?     You  ask  why  ?     Take  it,  then.     It  was  be 
cause  I  love  you.     There,  it  is  out,  the  story  of  these 
long  months  of  waiting  with  never  out  of  my  mind 
for  a  day  one  woman.     It  was  the  liberty  of  a  great 
honest  love,  the  first  of  my  life  and  the  last.     What  is 
your  answer,  Helen?" 

For  but  a  moment  she  looked  me  in  the  face.  Then 
she  threw  herself  on  the  lounge,  her  head  in  her 
hands,  sobbing  out,  "I  am  ashamed,  ashamed.  It 
came.  It  came  in  little  self-surprises  and  then  in  a 
terrible  hour  of  lonely,  uncontrolled  surrender.  I 
knew,  oh,  I  knew  too  well,  but  this —  How  could  I 
guess  that  you — you — that  you — that  you  loved 
me?" 

Then  I  had  her  in  my  arms  with  wild  words  of  love. 
I  held  her  at  arm's  length,  a  hand  on  each  shoulder, 
saying,  "And  this  incredible  thing  has  come,  and  you 
are  really  mine.  Ah,  but  life  owes  you  much.  I 
shall  pay  that  debt  with  interest.  Oh,  but  I  shall 
spoil  you,  Helen,"  and  more  and  more  of  such  glad 
folly  of  yearning  love  that  had  found  at  last  a 
tongue. 

It  might  have  been  five  minutes — the  lying  clock 
had  the  face  to  insist  it  was  half  an  hour.  She  had 
spoken  hardly  more  than  a  word  now  and  then. 

I  said,  ' '  Talk  to  me.     You  are  silent.     Oh,  I  remem- 


314  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

her  the  hour  I  first  heard  that  low,  sweet  voice, 
Helen." 

She  laughed,  "You  have  given  me  small  chance. 
You  will  get  enough  of  my  tongue  for,  oh,  John  Sher 
wood,  I  have  what  I  wanted,  and  I  just  wish  to  get 
into  a  corner  a  while,  all  alone,  and  think  about  how 
wonderful  it  is.  Ah,  the  dear  new  toy,  love.  Let  me 
run  away  and  play  with  it  for,  oh,  John,  I  feel  so 
young  again.  You  will  please  to  go  away,  now,  at 
once,  and  consider  the  foolish  thing  you  have  done. 
I  can't  talk  to  you,  even  to  you,  now.  I  should  just 
say  over  and  over  'I  love  you.'  :  She  ended,  with 
happy  emphasis  of  laughter.  "Please  to  go." 

"Yes,  dear." 

* '  Euphemia  will  be  here  and  I  am  in  such  a  state ! 
my  hair!  Do  let  me  go." 

"One  word,"  I  said,  "we  have  forgotten  that  will. 
I  will  keep  it  until  we  decide  what  to  do  with  it." 

She  had  taken  it  from  the  table,  and  then  let  it  fall 
on  the  floor.  Now  she  swept  down  on  it  fiercely  and 
cried,  "Decide!  What  are  wills,  dead  follies,  hos 
pitals,  money,  all,  anybody!  I  have  come  into  a  for 
tune,  John  Sherwood,  and  there  is  nothing  in  all  the 
world  but  love."  Then  she  cried,  "God  bless  you!" 
and — it  is  to  be  feared  Euphemia  saw  it — kissed  me. 

"Ye  saints!"  said  my  cousin,  her  confounded 
glasses  up,  examining  the  pair  of  us.  "So  this  was 
the  business  on  hand!  Well,  well." 

"Please  to  go  away,"  cried  Helen,  "both  of  you. 
Tell  him  to  go.  Both  of  you  go." 


JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER  315 

''Then  this  afternoon?" 

"Yes,  but  go." 

I  went  as  bidden.  I  walked  away  thoughtful, 
along  the  familiar  streets,  past  old  St.  Peter 's  Church, 
thinking  of  the  blessed  chance-given  accident  of  my 
choice  of  a  camp  refuge.  I  must  go  and  confide  my 
story  of  happiness  to  Harry  and  his  wife. 

When  we  met  again  in  the  afternoon,  I  said,  after 
an  hour  of  talk  over  our  plans,  "You  have  that 
paper,  Helen?  I  forgot  it  and  everything  but  you." 

"Yes,  it  is  safe." 

Then  she  showed  me  a  Baltimore  journal  where 
the  hospital  gift  was  mentioned  with  some  wondering 
comment,  but  without  a  word  of  her. 

I  said,  ' '  I  am  uneasy  about  that  will. ' ' 

"You  need  not  be." 

"Why?" 

"It  is  burned." 

"You  burned  it!" 

"No,  Sarah  Koonis  burned  it.  Those  accidents  will 
occur.  I  wanted  to  destroy  some  letters  and  there 
was  no  fire,  except  in  the  kitchen." 

"As  an  explanation  that  is,  well,  rather  dubious." 

"Is  it?     You  could  not  burn  it." 

"I  always  meant  to  and  hesitated  as  a  man  may 
over  an  illegal  act,  the  breaking  of  a  wise  law." 

"Well,  I  have  saved  your  conscience.  My  own  is 
clear.  Illegal!  Law!  What  do  I  care.  Thereis.no 
law  for  me  but  the  law  of  love. ' '  I  said  no  more. 

When  our  secret  of  a  week  was  out,  and  Euphemia 


316  JOHN  SHERWOOD,  IRONMASTER 

free  to  relate  this  delightful  gossip,  Dodo  appeared. 

"Well,  Dodo/'  said  Helen  Norman,  "I  hope  you 
are  pleased.     Was  it  a  surprise?" 

"I  always  did  know  it  would  come  about." 

* '  Good  heavens ! ' '  said  the  lady. 
•  When,  before  this,  Harry  Heath  came  with  Lucy, 
his  wife,  and  roses  and  congratulations,  I  had,  as  he 
spoke,  the  thought  of  how  fortunate  it  was  that  there 
is  no  human  power  to  unlock  the  secret  chambers  of 
another's  mind. 


THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 


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MAY  13  1970  2S 

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